The Bodyguard: How They Met
by FireStallion
Summary: It's been vaguely hinted at and is a subject generally avoided by both Tony and JC, but it is the one event in their past that shaped their relationship and defined them for so long: what really happened the first time they met.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So this was originally supposed to be a short one shot, maybe two chaptered story, but there was a lot more story to it than that. It'll still be a short sweet story...well, maybe not sweet, but you get the idea. Don't forget to leave a review!**

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**How They Met**

Normally Tony looked forward to his trips out of country. It got him out of the house and got Pepper out of his hair for a few days. Not that he didn't appreciate how well she cleaned up his messes, the nagging she constantly did was rather annoying. There were a few times when she would come along with him, but this time she had declined to come. Something about it being her birthday. He normally made some objections to her birthday plans, but for once he was rather grateful. Three days of no Pepper was just what he needed.

Tony was working on a merger between Stark Industries and an electronics development company that was based in Tokyo. The company was getting ready to go under, but Tony saw potential in the research the company was conducting. The company may have been running out of money, but Tony didn't want to see those ideas go to waste. He was sure he could finish the research where they left off and make plenty of money in the process.

The only problem with this visit was that Tony had been informed of some radical group that had been making threats against him if he were to come to Tokyo to finish the deal. Tony didn't put much stock into the threats. There were plenty of groups that didn't like him and were constantly threatening him. Most of it was just hot air that blew off within a few weeks. None the less, the CEO of the company insisted that he have extra security assigned to him and that he had the perfect person for the job. Tony tried to insist that Happy, his driver, would be more than enough protection. He had been doing just fine with the man and saw no reason to change that now. However, he placated the nervous CEO and let him make the arrangements.

When Tony arrived at the main office he was greeted by the CEO's assistant who seemed to bow a bit too low for Tony's comfort level, but he would not argue with their customs. He gave a small bow in return and followed the assistant inside. He was rather impressed by the lobby of the thirty-four story building. It was very large and open with an enormous fountain in the middle splashing quietly which gave the area a calm, relaxing vibe. Polished stone floors led up an enormously wide flight of stairs that led to the elevators. They stopped at the front desk, which was made of the same stone, and checked him in, making sure he wore his little badge that said he was a visitor. He found the whole process a bit ridiculous since he was about to become the owner of the whole building, but he didn't argue.

"Takeshi-sama's personal security shall meet us at the elevator, Mr. Stark," the assistant said as he led them up the flight of stairs.

"You can tell Mr. Takeshi that I'm very grateful for his concern, but this is hardly necessary. I'm sure we'll be more that safe inside his office."

"I am sorry, Mr. Stark, but Takeshi-sama insists that you have a guard at all times. He can better explain the situation to you," the assistant said nervously.

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the man as they waited patiently for the elevator to descend. A ding went off, signaling that the car had arrived and the doors opened up to reveal what Tony hoped was another assistant for Takeshi. The woman that stepped out of the car was very obviously American. She was an average height with medium length dark blonde hair that had been tied back in a pony tail and adorned with two shiny, metallic, silly hair sticks. She wore jeans with a loose, colorful kimono top that ended just below her hips and black leather boots that went up to her calves. He was surprised by her attire since it seemed hardly appropriate for a business woman, but even Tony had to admit that she was quite beautiful. Her face was heart shaped with elegant cheek bones and eyes so blue and innocent looking he would have sworn she looked like one of those angels in pictures he had seen.

"Good day, Mr. Stark," she greeted warmly. "My name is JC Wilcox, and I will be your bodyguard during your stay here in Tokyo."

Tony was floored by this revelation. This was Takeshi's 'perfect person'? She may have been beautiful, but she hardly looked like she would be capable of protecting him in the way that Takeshi had made it sound. What was she going to do? Charm her attackers into submission?

"I'm sorry. I think there's been a mistake here. Mr. Takeshi never said anything about his personal security being–"

"A woman?" she finished, cutting him off. "I assure you, Mr. Stark, I am more than capable of keeping you out of harm's way for the next several days. Now, if you'll follow me, I will take you to see Mr. Takeshi," she said sweetly and motioned him into the elevator. Tony entered the elevator uneasily as she stepped in behind him and hit the button for the seventeenth floor.

"I thought we would be going a bit higher. Shouldn't the CEO's office be near the top of the building?" he questioned, more to break the silence than the fact that he was honestly curious. He hated quiet moments. They always made him uncomfortable.

"It's a security measure. It puts him equal distance from the front entrance and the roof in case one exit is blocked off," she informed him, her eyes always forward.

"So he keeps a helicopter on the roof at all times?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

"You are allowed to look at me when you speak, you know. I promise you won't burst into flames," he said when she still refused to look at him.

"Force of habit," she explained. "An attack is most likely to come from the front. Looking at you won't prepare me for what's in front of me."

"I highly doubt there are already bad guys in the building ready to shoot at us as soon as the elevator opens. In case you didn't notice, there was no trouble in the lobby," he pointed out dryly.

"I take no risks with client safety, Mr. Stark."

"So tell me about yourself, Wilcox."

"JC will be just fine, and I don't see how knowing me is any of your concern," she replied coolly.

"I like to know who's watching my back. Is that such a crime?"

"Mr. Takeshi has entrusted me with his protection for five years now. That should be more than enough to ease your mind, Mr. Stark."

"So nothing I say can change your mind?"

She turned her gaze on him, her innocent blue eyes now icy and hard. "No, Mr. Stark," she said coldly as the elevator doors opened and she stepped out.

"I don't think I'm making too demanding of a request. I like to know I can trust the person guarding me. And, no offense, you hardly seem like the most capable person for the job," he taunted. She turned on her heel quicker than he had anticipated causing him to involuntarily flinch.

"Let me make something perfectly clear, Mr. Stark. I know what game you're trying to play, and it won't work. Know this: I am more than able to break every bone in your body with my bare hands, if that is what it will take to prove my abilities to you," she said darkly and turned back down the hall.

"Threats aren't really necessary. Wait a sec," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. He hadn't really meant to piss her off, but he did want to see how she reacted under pressure. He got more than he bargained for when she swiftly grabbed his hand and twisted his arm, painfully holding it in place.

"I'm going to ask nicely this time. Don't touch me again. Part of why I'm so good is because I have good reflexes. That tends to get people in trouble. Do you follow, Mr. Stark?"

"I don't think you're boss would like it too much if you decided to break my wrist," he strained.

"I've done worse to other clients of his and for very good reasons. Don't think that just because you're buying this company means you get special privileges. I work for Takeshi, not you. My job is to keep you alive, nothing else. Do we understand each other better now?"

"Crystal clear," he managed, and she released him. He shook out his arm and rubbed his wrist to alleviate some of the pain. She put on a good show, but he still had some reservations about her. One thing was certain though. She was not someone to be taken quite so lightly in the future.

She led him down the hallway before finally stopping and opening a door that led to a conference room. Takeshi stood and greeted him with a small bow and a handshake which Tony returned.

"Welcome, Mr. Stark. I hope you had a pleasant journey here," Takeshi said warmly.

"As pleasant as could be," Tony responded.

"And you have met JC-san. She is the best bodyguard money can buy. Let us hope her skills will not be needed," he said and motioned for Tony to sit down.

"Mr. Takeshi, I do appreciate this, but my own personal security will be more than enough. I've learned through the years that threats like this usually hold no real merit. They're all talk and no action," he said, eyeing JC from the corner of his eye as she moved to stand behind him. "I hardly think Miss Wilcox will be necessary."

"You will forgive me for disagreeing, Mr. Stark. The last man who attempted to buy this company was found dead, a warning pinned to his body that you would be next, if you came here. These people want my company and its research for themselves, and they are willing to do anything to ensure that no one else gets this company. Like you, I had not believed their threats. Because of this, a man is now dead," Takeshi explained solemnly.

"What makes you so sure the threats will stop if I buy your company? You're making this sound more of a hazard to my health than I'm comfortable with, Mr. Takeshi."

"That is why, as part of our arrangement, you will take my researchers and all of their work and transfer them to America where they will be safe. This group has never left Japan. They will not follow my workers to America," he reasoned.

"Interesting theory, Mr. Takeshi, but have you thought of this: with the workers and the data gone, they will blame you and come after you. You could be putting your life in serious danger by doing this," Tony warned.

"I am well aware of the danger. It is a risk I am willing to take, if it keeps my company secrets out extremist hands."

The conversation went on for several more hours hammering out the details of what was to be done with the individual projects. It took quite a bit of persuasion on the part of both men to get what they wanted, but by the end of their meeting they had managed to make several reasonable compromises. Tony couldn't help but notice that through the entire meeting JC's eyes were always scanning the room, outside the windows, the door, everywhere. He had never seen anyone quite so hyper vigilant in such a small room. Whether she was really as good as Takeshi had claimed or she was simply paranoid, Tony wasn't sure. Maybe it was a bit of both. At the close of their meeting Tony asked for a private moment with Takeshi. JC had looked uneasy about leaving the two men alone, but Takeshi had shooed her away, assuring her that they would be in little danger if she was away for a few minutes.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Stark?"

"I'm just curious about your bodyguard. Have you ever had any problems with her in the past?" he asked carefully.

"Did she threaten you, Mr. Stark?" he asked without even a bit of embarrassment.

"No, that's not the problem," he lied smoothly. "I'm just curious about her. How good is she really?"

"She is the best I have ever known, and I have seen my fair share of disappointing security personal both in my own company and others. She has keen senses and lightning reflexes. She is like the tiger, beautiful and majestic but very deadly when provoked," he said with awe. "I will admit, I have had several complaints about her behavior toward my clients in the past, but each time I found her reasons to be genuine. Harmless flirting she is accustomed to, but some were more…persistent, shall we say, in their pursuits. I only know of one that she caused serious injury to and rightly so. Does that answer your question, Mr. Stark?"

"I think you've told me everything I need to know. Good day, Mr. Takeshi. I look forward to completing our business soon," Tony said with a small bow which was returned by Takeshi.

The two men exited the room and accompanied JC to the elevator. Tony had to admit he was surprised Takeshi had kept the woman with so many complaints against her. Whether she had been in the right or not, Tony would have fired her after warning her to stop. After what she had done to him earlier, he could tell that she had quite the temper and that temper, if unchecked, would get her into some trouble, which it had already seemed to do.

JC escorted him to his car and…promptly got in? Tony was taken aback when she slid into the back seat beside him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked incredulously as she shut the door behind him.

"I told you I was to be your guard during your entire stay here. Mr. Takeshi has made all the arrangements. I will be staying in the same hotel with you and escorting you wherever you go," she explained and motioned for the driver to go.

"He didn't say anything about this. I don't need a babysitter," he said indignantly.

"These are seriously dangerous men that are after you, Mr. Stark. If they want you dead, they will not stop at trying to attack you at Mr. Takeshi's office. They will make an attempt anywhere, and many attempts that I have stopped have occurred in the bedroom while the person was sleeping. I can't protect you at night if I am not near you," she said simply.

Tony breathed a frustrated sigh. He had come here to get away from people like her, people that reminded him of Pepper. He wanted to have some fun on this trip, and he wasn't going to have any with her hanging around him all the time.

"So what does that entail exactly? Will you be sleeping in my room?" he asked smartly.

"No," she replied coldly. "I will go over the final details when we arrive."

They sat in silence for the remainder of the trip to the hotel. Tony just stared out the window at the masses of people and vehicles that went by. Not even Malibu ever felt this congested. It still amazed him that such a small place could support such a population. Every now and then he stole a look at JC who's eyes didn't seem to miss a thing. She stared out of each window, her gaze constantly looking for some invisible threat. Every time they stopped at a light she would become more rigid as if expecting someone to race up and attack the car. She even noticed the few times he had stared at her. It had only been for a brief moment, but every time he did, her icy eyes would lock with his and force him to look away. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but it was a damn unsettling one.

When the car finally pulled up to their hotel JC stepped out first and crossed over to Tony's door before the car could come to a complete stop. She opened his door and motioned for him to get out. Now he realized that maybe Pepper wasn't so bad. At least she didn't treat him so coldly. They bypassed the front desk and went straight for the elevator. They stopped on the fifth floor and JC escorted him down the hall where she produced a key which opened the door.

"This will be your room, Mr. Stark," she said as she led him in and closed the door behind them, latching the chain and throwing the bolt. "Here is your key. Your luggage is by the dresser. This door," she said as she opened a door in the middle of one the walls, "leads to my room. It is to remain unlocked and open at all times. I can't help you, if I can't get to you. Also, I will have an extra key to your room, just in case."

"You realize this gives me zero privacy," he complained.

"I will not be watching you dress, Mr. Stark. You will have more than enough privacy."

"That wasn't exactly what I meant," he said with a small smirk.

"I am well aware that you are a Playboy, Mr. Stark. However, I think you can survive a few days without an extra body to warm your bed. Are there any other questions?" she asked, folding her hands in front of her.

"Just one. Takeshi tells me you're the best of the best, yet you carry no weapons. I find it a bit difficult for a bodyguard to do a good job without at least a sidearm. You obviously carry none. So, what exactly do you do? You some kind of martial arts specialist or something like that?"

She stared at him for a moment with quiet regard, a smirk playing on her face and a dangerous sparkle in her eye as she took a few steps closer to him and began to circle him. She reminded him of a predator closing in for a kill. Apparently Takeshi had been rather accurate in his description of calling her a tiger.

"You already have an idea of what I can do with my hands," she said silkily as she ran a finger across his back from shoulder to shoulder. The movement sent a shiver down his spine. She circled him until she was back to his front. "But you require more proof of what I can do. Is that what you're saying?" she said in a dangerously soft tone.

Tony gulped audibly. There was something terrifying about her rather sensuous movements. He imagined that this was what a male black widow felt like just before his mate killed him. "Yes," he said with as much conviction as he could muster, hoping his voice didn't betray his current unease.

If it was possible, her smirk turned more sinister as she put one hand to his chest and pushed him backward. He landed on the bed with small grunt as he attempted to regain his composure. She went for the belt of her satiny shirt and began to slowly untie it as if giving him one last chance to back out. His tie suddenly felt too tight around his neck, and he could feel his heart rate increase as he continued to watch her. He'd come this far. He would see it to the end.

The belt fell limply at her sides as she pushed back the shoulders of her shirt letting it fall to the floor with a quiet 'swoosh'. Tony's imagination swam with erotic ideas until her shirt had hit the ground. What she had been hiding under the shirt couldn't have shocked him more. She wore a tank top but what she wore over that tank top was more than a little terrifying. A vest that must have held at least twenty throwing knives adorned her body. Knives scared Tony. He spent most of his time surround by guns, explosives, anything that made a big boom. That stuff he was comfortable with; it was familiar. But knives were a different story. They were one of the most infallible weapons. A gun could jam, or malfunction, or run out of ammo. A knife could keep on killing, dull or sharp, as long as it was in skilled hands. And he knew she had skilled hands; and she had a lot of knives to use her skills with.

A strap went across her chest, and at the end of that strap were several spare clips of ammo for a pistol, but he saw no gun that went with them. It made him wonder where on her person she was hiding that, if she was. He had seen the bulge the clips made and had written it off as being a cell phone case or something. Oh how wrong he had been.

How had he missed this? He had been standing less than a foot away from her and he couldn't tell that she was hiding weaponry beneath her shirt. Sure, her shirt had been loose around her body which could have accounted for that, but still he could hardly believe that he missed that.

"As you can see, I am very much armed, and I do have a sidearm that I keep in my room and at the office where I can easily reach it," she said as she took several more steps toward him. Adrenaline surged through him with excitement and fear as she stood just barely a foot away from him and lowered herself until she was at his eye level. "Does this answer your question?"

"Yes," he croaked and cleared his throat which he was suddenly aware was very dry.

"Good," she said sweetly and smiled brightly. Her eyes were no longer dark and predatory but clear and innocent as he had seen them when he had first met her. The way she so easily went from one mood to the next just added to his new found fear of her. She turned and picked up her shirt and quickly tied it back around her torso. "If there is nothing else you'll be needing, I would suggest you get some rest. Mr. Takeshi plans on giving you a tour of his facilities tomorrow, and there is also the gala tomorrow night to celebrate the merger. That means a long day for you, Mr. Stark. Good night," she said and stole away to her room.

Tony stared after her in awe. Takeshi obviously hadn't over exaggerated as Tony had thought. She had to have been aware of how arousing her show had been. She had been in complete, dominating control, and she had known it. It only made him wonder more what other talents she possessed. She wouldn't be an easy target to conquer, but Tony was confident in his prowess. After all, he had seen _The Bodyguard_ before. The bodyguard and client had wound up in bed at least once. Why couldn't it work out for him, too?

A little voice in the back of his head warned him that he should squash the idea completely; she would probably kill him, if he didn't. But then there was that other little voice that said it was ready for a challenge, and JC Wilcox was certainly a worthy challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Morning came far too early for Tony's liking. It was probably still just jet lag, but he found it difficult to get to sleep during the night. He had entertained the idea that it might have also had something to do with the fact that there was a terrifying master assassin that dripped sex appeal sleeping in the next room. He had gotten up to go to the bathroom at one point and had managed to stub his toe. He had cursed, but he had barely even whispered it. When he walked back to his bed she had been standing by the door, a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. She said she had heard something and wanted to check on him. It made him wonder if she even slept or if she was more like a shark that always had one eye open; at least, that's what he thought he had heard about the creatures.

_Maybe it was dolphins_, he thought absently. Well, dolphins were hardly terrifying; shark was certainly more appropriate.

Tony went about getting dressed when he heard the shower turn on in JC's room. Normally he wouldn't have given it a second thought, but it sounded rather loud to him. Even with the doors to their suites left open he didn't think he should be able to hear it so well. He peeked through the doors to see that JC had stepped into the shower but had left the bathroom door open. Tony stared absently at the silhouette of her body through the steamed up, fogged out glass of the shower. Did she even consider that he would be watching her?

Tony stood there completely mesmerized by her until the sound of the shower turning off pulled him from his stupor. She was getting ready to step out when he finally tore himself away from the door and retreated into his room where she wouldn't be able to see him. If she had caught him staring for even a moment, he was sure she would find some excuse to use those knives of hers on him; that or just break a few bones like she had promised she was able to do. Now he understood why so many clients had been injured by the woman. If she was anything like this with her other clients, it was any wonder those men had been able to restrain themselves. She was practically screaming to have men crawling after her.

He quickly trimmed his beard and dressed himself before returning to the door in hopes that JC would be dressed. She was dressed similarly to her attire the day before in a silky top, this time black with gold cherry blossom branches, black jeans, and those sexy black boots. She stood by the window, her back to him and braided her still wet hair before wrapping it up into a bun. From his angle he could see that her eyes were closed as she took her metal hair sticks and gingerly started to work them into her hair one at a time. When he saw the end of one of the sticks, he knew why she was being so careful: they were sharpened to razor points.

_So, even her accessories are lethal_, he thought.

As she finished placing the second stick she turned suddenly and caught him still staring at her, the one position he didn't want her to catch him in.

"Are you finished fantasizing, Mr. Stark?" she said with a smirk.

"Me, fantasizing? What gave you that idea? I was just wondering what was taking you so long," he lied smoothly.

"Mhmm," she said, unconvinced.

"So, do you even sleep?" Tony asked as they headed for the elevator.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, cocking a brow.

"I barely made a sound last night, but you were up in an instant with weapons ready. How is that even possible, if you were sleeping?"

"I sleep very lightly. It's an acquired skill," she answered as they stepped in and she pressed the button for the lobby.

"Seriously? I've never heard of anyone who could sleep that lightly. What's your real secret?"

"There is no secret, Mr. Stark. Whether you believe the truth or not is your problem, not mine. Shall we?" she said as she opened the car door and motioned for him to get in.

"I will figure you out, Wilcox. You are my new mission," he teased as he slid in. He thought he caught a glimpse of an eye roll from her, but he dismissed it. He was going to figure out just what made her tick, but he was going to have to do it fast. He only had one last night before he would head home. The thought had occurred to him that he should just give up, that JC Wilcox was the kind of woman where you would look and not touch. Well, it was more like look at your own risk and definitely do not touch. However, Tony Stark was not one to simply give up.

The tour of Takeshi's facilities was less than thrilling, to say the least. It was essentially everything Tony had expected it to be, but it was still a formality he had to go through. But his attentions were hardly on the little Japanese man who spoke rather horrible English. Watching JC at work was much more interesting. He could see a thousand different scenarios running through her head based on the expressions on her face and in those hypnotizing eyes of hers. While he never caught a glimpse of them for any length of time, they were stunning whenever he did see them.

Her body seemed always tensed like a coil ready to spring at the slightest foul movement, and yet there was this calm about her like she was always in control, would be in control even if she wasn't. She was a fascinating dichotomy. He understood now why Takeshi liked having her around. Besides being a perfect picture of sexuality, she had the presence of one with experience in battle and the capability of using that experience to her full advantage. She may have been a woman, and he may have underestimated her for it, but she was definitely one worth having at your side in a pinch. Of that, Tony was most sure of.

After several hours of walking through the facilities and reviewing the projects currently under development, Tony was glad to have time back in his hotel room. Normally he would take the time to go find a good bar, but he was still exhausted from the night before and needed to be fresh for the party that night.

As soon as he got back to him room he immediately went to the bathroom and locked himself in. He took a long, hot shower and tried to take his mind off his seductive bodyguard, which was no easy task. He had an uneasy feeling that she was probably sitting in his room waiting for him. She was probably sitting on his bed, those piercing, predatory eyes ready to stare him down, her body ready to pounce on him and…

He had to physically slap himself out of that little fantasy; the mental slap he tried didn't do him much good. He cursed as he rubbed his now stinging cheek. While he had needed the wake-up call, he hadn't expected it to hurt that much. He heard a sudden knock at the door which made him jump and nearly slip on the wet floor of the shower.

"Stark, are you all right in there?" came JC's voice, the smallest hint of worry in her voice.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just having a little fight with the shower," he lied, hoping he sounded convincing.

She accepted his answer, but she didn't sound completely convinced. When he was sure she had left the door he let out a quiet sigh and shut off the shower. Whatever relaxing effect he had hoped would come out of the shower was long gone. He stepped out and towel dried his hair for a minute before drying off the rest of his body and slid into a pair of pajama pants. After poking his head out the door to make sure the room was empty he stepped out of the bathroom and walked cautiously toward the bed. In hindsight, he felt a bit silly about it. Why should he be so nervous walking about his own room? Because one woman might be watching him? That was just ridiculous. He had let plenty of other woman look at him with less clothing on his body and been completely confident. However, those other women weren't capable of killing him with their bare hands.

He peeked through the door that joined their rooms to see JC lying on her bed, the TV remote in her hand as she apparently flipped through channels, though he could barely hear any sound coming from the TV; she must have turned it down so she could hear him better. For some reason that still felt a bit creepy to him. Feeling gutsy, he stepped into the room to see what she was watching. It was some Japanese show with Japanese subtitles running across the bottom. Figured.

"You know Japanese pretty well?" he asked as he stepped back toward the door and leaned against the doorframe.

"Since I work in Japan, it kinda works out better if I'm fluent in the language," she replied, keeping her gaze on the TV.

"Spoken language maybe, but you can read that fast?"

"Yep."

"So, do you live here in Tokyo then?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Nope."

"You commute from some other town?"

"Nope."

Her one line answers were beginning to aggravate him. "So where do you live then?"

"America. Why are you so interested, Mr. Stark?"

"Well, we're practically living together right now. I'm sure you already know plenty about me from the news or internet or both, but I know nothing about you, except that you are probably very good with a butcher knife. Here's how I see things. Me plus you plus Takeshi times major corporate buyout all divided by terrorist threat is my equation for the current situation. Everything in the equation for me has known quantities, except for you. You are an unknown variable in my equation. I don't like unknown variables in my equations," he explained.

She finally turned her head from the TV to look at him with quiet curiosity. She smirked before rotating herself to sit up on the edge of the bed. "It could be argued that these terrorists are an unknown variable. No one really knows how many of them there are, when they'll strike, if they'll strike, or how they'll strike. That kind of variable would leave most people quite terrified, but not you, Mr. Stark. Why is it that you consider these men a known variable and me not?" she challenged.

"I've known groups like this for years. In the end, they don't have the balls to actually go after their target. I know and understand their motives. But you, you operate on some system that I can't even begin to figure out. It makes you fascinating, but it also makes you…" he paused for a moment as he searched for the right word. "Dangerous for me," he decided. "You see, I can never tell just where the line is with you. It just shifts to fit your needs. You say, 'don't look, don't touch,' but your body language says the complete opposite. You can see how this puts any man in a bad position."

She let out a sinister chuckle. "Whether my body says one thing and my words another does not explain why you feel the need to know so much personal information about me. It will not aid you in any way, Mr. Stark. Just know this: I'm perfectly equipped to handle this job and will chase away all the Boogie men. You may not see them as an unknown, but I do. I too have known my fair share of groups like this, and they are far from the known. They have already killed one man as a warning. They've also promised that you will be next. The only thing that is certain about them is that they will carry out their threat. It's just a matter of time."

Tony scoffed. "Whatever you say, JC. Wake me up about twenty minutes before we need to go," he said and stepped back to his room and collapsed on the bed. Sleep didn't come easy for him. Not only was his body telling him that he wasn't supposed to be sleeping right now, he was consumed by thoughts of JC. She was such an enigma, and he didn't know what to do with an enigma. Sure, he had known a few mysterious women in his past, but they weren't that mysterious. He had been able to figure them out without this much difficulty. She was something else entirely.

Tony did eventually find his way to sleep, but it hadn't felt for very long or very productive. He had been torn from his sleep by something landing abruptly on his torso which startled him right from his bed to the floor. He rubbed his head, which he had managed to hit on his way down, as he grabbed the side of the bed to pull himself up, searching for the object that had assaulted him. He found it on the floor next to him: one of his shoes.

He glared at the object as he heard a chuckle coming from JC's room. He turned to find her standing in the doorway dressed in only a robe that ended about five or six inches above her knees. If he hadn't been so angry about being disturbed, he would have gawked.

"If I'd known you were gonna do that, I wouldn't have thrown the shoe, but you wouldn't wake up when I yelled at you," she said trying to look innocent.

"You yelled at me?" he asked with a quizzical look. He hadn't remembered hearing her yelling at him.

"Yeah," she replied. "But you sleep like a rock, apparently."

"Didn't feel like it," he said as he rubbed his head again.

"Get ready. We leave in fifteen," she said and went back to her room.

Tony stared after her for a moment and thought, _Yeah, right_. Her hair had been let down from its bun, but it was nowhere near finished, she wasn't dressed, and she didn't even have her makeup on. No way was she going to be ready in fifteen minutes. Makeup alone would take that long. But he didn't argue with her as he headed for the bathroom and got dressed. As he rummaged through his luggage he noticed that Pepper had failed to pack his bowtie. She hadn't done that before. She was probably too distracted making birthday plans that she had forgotten his bowtie. Feeling more than a little agitated he found a black tie that would work as a decent substitute. Draping the tie around his neck he quickly put on his dress shoes and stood in front of a mirror to tie the tie.

As he did, he caught a glimpse of JC in the mirror. The sight nearly made his jaw drop. Her hair, which had turned wavy from the braids and bun, had been half pulled up in some sort of French twist thing while the rest draped down her bare shoulders. Her red dress had one strap made out of some sheer fabric that then draped down the back all the way to the end of the A-line skirt. When she turned around he could see that the sheer fabric wrapped around her bust before ending in the side seam. The dropped waist of the dress gave her a long, slender, elegant look which only made her look more gorgeous. He was even impressed by the fact that her makeup was done, too. She had smoky eyes with just a little color on her cheeks.

"Do you need some help with that?" she said with a grin as she approached him. He looked at himself in the mirror and realized he had tied his tie into some mangled knot around his neck. Apparently he had been a little distracted.

"I know how to tie my own tie," he said as he furiously untied the thing and tried to re-tie it. He failed miserably. His fingers refused to do what he had done a million times before.

"Stop before you ruin the poor thing," she said as she made him turn to face her. After smoothing it out and adjusting it on his neck, she took the two ends and expertly tied and cinched it up.

"You often have to tie ties for your clients?" he said absently.

"You are probably the first. All my clients have worn clip-ons or know how to tie their ties," she replied as she straightened his jacket and brushed him off.

"I happen to know how to tie my own tie, thank you very much," he said indignantly.

"Sure you do," she said disbelievingly.

"I do. You just caught me off guard. I've never known a woman who could actually get ready faster than me. What's your secret?"

"Practice," she said with a smirk.

"I actually am quite surprised to see you in a dress."

"What, you thought I was going in some hideous suit or something?" she said with an offended cock of her brow.

"No, no. It just looks like a bit of an inconvenience if these bad guys decide to break up the party. You are the one that said they could attack at any time," he pointed out.

"I have pants on underneath," she said as she lifted her skirt just enough for him to see the hem of her jeans. "I can kick off the heels, and the skirt has a tear-away seam at the waist. Satisfied?"

He gave her one last look over and said, "Well, let's hope you don't have to rip up your dress. It'd be a shame to ruin something so pretty."

"Let's go," she said and led them down to the car. It was a short ride from their hotel to the hotel where the gala was to be held. Cameras and reporters went abuzz when the limo pulled up and Tony exited. He smiled for the cameras as he helped JC from the car. She smiled beside him as she slipped her arm around his and walked with him down the red carpet.

"What are you doing?" he said through his smile.

"I'm less conspicuous as your date than your bodyguard," she replied through her own plastered smile.

Tony had to admit he didn't mind that so much. Now she wouldn't tear his head off for a simple touch. At least, she wouldn't do it with all the cameras watching. She was definitely smarter than that. They followed the other guests to the elevator and stepped in with several others to ascend to the top floor. As they stood in the crowded car JC put her other hand possessively over his bicep, her grip so tight he was sure her nails would leave a bruise.

"Your nails are going right through my jacket," he whispered as he restrained a painful sound.

"Get over it," she whispered back vehemently.

He clenched one hand into a fist in order to resist the strong urge to simply rip his arm from her grasp. He was sure that would probably do more harm than good to him, but at this point it was worth a shot. He didn't remember doing anything to deserve this kind of punishment. When the doors finally opened Tony hurried out of the car and pulled away from her.

"You can release me now. I'm pretty sure my arm is no longer a threat to anyone," he retorted.

"Would you relax," she said softly as she moved closer to him. "The only people that know who I really am are you, Takeshi, and a few of his men. So, if you continue making a scene, people are going to get a bit suspicious. That is the last thing we need."

"Then act your part. How many couples do you know that try to rip each other's arms off in an elevator? I get that you're trying to do your job, but could you just not be you for like five minutes and act like a normal person?"

She did a quick double take to see if anyone had noticed them before plastering a small smile on her face. "Very well, Mr. Stark, we will try your approach. Just don't try anything funny."

He offered his arm again which she took gently this time and followed him into the ballroom. She looked less than pleased about it, but she hid it quite well. He went through the necessary schmoozing with the other guests always introducing JC as "Janet" as per her own insistence. It made him wonder if she didn't take her job too seriously sometimes. When he reached Takeshi he greeted him with the traditional bow and handshake.

"Everything is going well," Takeshi said, more as a question than a statement.

"Yes, I think so. Tomorrow you will be free of your company and your problems. Try to enjoy the party," Tony said with a friendly pat to the man's shoulder. "If you will excuse me, the dance floor is calling me and my lovely date. Shall we?" he said with a smile as he offered his hand to JC.

"I'm not so sure about that," she said hesitantly. "I'm not exactly the best dancer." He could tell by the look in her eye that she was lying. What she was really trying to say was, "I don't need you feeling me up in front of everyone," or something along those lines.

"Trust me. You'll be just fine," he assured her. With a subtle look from Takeshi she hesitantly took his hand and followed him to the middle of the dance floor. He remained a perfect gentleman and kept his hand at the middle of her back; mostly because she would kill him later if he even thought of trying anything.

"So, Janet," he said, emphasizing her horrible choice of name, "rumors of your horrible dancing have been greatly exaggerated."

"That's not my name," she as her eyes scanned the room. Tony was about to say something else, but her foot crushing his stopped him. He groaned as she smiled sweetly at him. "And I'm only horrible when I want to be," she said silkily.

He chuckled through the pain in his foot as he eyed her warily. "So what does the J stand for, if not Janet?"

"You will never know."

"So mysterious," he said half seriously. "And so serious," he added with a mock stern glare.

She smirked as she drew closer to him. "My job is to keep people alive," she said softly in his ear. "It's not a time for games or jokes."

"I get that," he said as she pulled away. "But, come on, you've gotta have a sense of humor, even if it is a sick one. How do you think doctors get through their day? All that grim stuff, they joke about it. Some of it is pretty gross and disturbing, but it's how they deal with it. So, how do you deal with the job? I'm sure you've done a few not-so-nice things. It's gotta take a toll."

She took in a deep breath, suddenly looking uneasy. "It does," she admitted solemnly, a look of remorse and regret in her eyes. "But I don't use humor to get over it."

"Everyone uses some sort of humor. I know even you use it. You may not say it aloud, but I'm sure you've thought about it once or twice. Things like 'how can I torture this guy today' or 'I wonder how much it'll freak him out if I do this.'"

She stifled a giggle and tried to look anywhere but up at his face. Now he knew he had her.

"Yep, I know exactly what you were thinking this morning. You were thinking, 'You know what? I'm gonna leave this door open just to tempt him to look, but I know he won't, because he knows I'll jump right out and skin him alive.' Then there was, 'I'm gonna let him watch me fix my hair just so he can see how sharp and pointy my sticks are. That'll keep him from trying anything funny.'"

A wide smile crept onto her face as she began to honestly giggle for the first time. "I do not do that," she said, finally looking up at him.

"Well, what do you know? I think that's the first genuine smile I have ever seen from you. It's a miracle. I didn't think you knew they existed," he quipped, which only made it better. There was actual happiness in her eyes. He was starting to think that she didn't know what that was.

"I do, thank you very much," she said matter-of-factly.

He stared down into her clear blue eyes and noted how much more beautiful they looked when she really smiled. It was such a difference from the other times he had seen them. In that moment she wasn't a bodyguard anymore. She was just JC, a normal, everyday woman enjoying herself. Well, maybe not normal. He could hardly describe her as normal, but as close to normal that was possible for her. He lost himself in that one perfect moment so completely that he didn't even realize when he had pulled her closer to him. He was even more shocked when he closed the distance completely and kissed her softly, which was abnormal for him. He didn't do anything softly or tenderly, but she was just so…different.

When he pulled away from her, realizing that he had just made a grievous mistake, he prepared himself for her wrath. He was sure that when he looked into those eyes again he would see sheer rage that would only be contained for the sake that they were in public, if she would even use that much restraint. But that wasn't what he saw. There was shock on her face, but in her eyes there was no anger. There was fear, the kind of fear that paralyzed a person. It scared even him to see such fear in her eyes.

She pulled him close and whispered in a breathy voice, "Meet me on the balcony. Two minutes." She then released him and walked away to the balcony.

Tony was utterly dumbfounded. That was hardly the response he expected. He expected threats or for her to inflict some sort of pain upon him, but she didn't. Had she felt something in that moment, too? Was he finally winning her over? Tony smirked confidently at that thought. He knew the task wasn't as impossible as it had seemed. She was like any other woman; she had a button that turned her on. Granted, hers was much more difficult to find, but he had done it.

He made his way slowly to the balcony, a warm breeze greeting him when he finally made it. She had her back to him as she stared out over the skyline. The breeze played wistfully with her hair showing off the bare skin of her back. She was more than exquisite. And he had her all to himself.

"You wanted to talk?" he said silkily as he approached her.

"Yes, I did," she replied with a much calmer voice than before, barely turning her head.

Tony's smirk widened as he closed in on her, their distance barely a foot apart. In hindsight, Tony realized he should have taken her tone as a warning. The only time she was ever calm was when she was about to strike. And strike she did. Before he could think to react she whipped around, backhanding him so hard that it caused him to lose his balance and fall to the ground. As he tried to stand she closed in, grabbed his tie, and wrapped it around the railing, pulling hard enough that it began to choke him. Yep, he had hit one of her buttons all right, but it was not the one he should have.

She kneeled down to his level as he grasped at the tie trying uselessly to loosen it. Her eyes were sparkling with anger now, her mouth downturned in a fierce scowl. This was closer to what he had expected earlier. If that had been her way of lulling him into a false sense of security, it had worked like a charm, and he hated it. She had made him look like a fool.

"If you ever try anything like that again, I swear to God, I will kill you," she growled as she tightened the tie with a yank, "or maim you within an inch of your life. Do you understand?"

He wanted to speak, but the words were caught in his throat. A small nod was all he could manage in his current position.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. What did you say?" she demanded with another yank.

He coughed and sputtered for breath as black dots invaded his vision. He took in as deep a breath as he could manage and said weakly, "Yes, I…understand."

Her cool gaze pierced through him for another moment as if judging his sincerity. The black dots around his vision were getting larger, turning into large clouds as she spoke again. "You may be a genius, but you are the biggest idiot I've ever known," she said and finally released him. He collapsed on the ground greedily sucking in air as he tried to push the darkness that threatened to consume him back. "I'll see you back inside once you've collected yourself," she said and stalked back to the party.

When Tony could finally breathe normally again he stood and brushed himself off. If he hadn't been sure of it before, he was sure of it now: that woman was crazy, and not the good kind. One second she was sweet and the next a raging assassin. He, for one, was tired of this little game she was playing. It was becoming clear that her only thoughts were to torture him in one form or another, and he was sure that she was fully aware of the effect she had on him. She could play innocent all she wanted, but he wasn't buying it. Not anymore.

After loosening and straightening his tie he took a moment to take in several more deep breaths to collect himself. No more Mr. Nice Guy. From here on out he was going to do things his way. If that meant doing them without the psychotic bodyguard, all the better for him.

* * *

**AN: Hope you guys are enjoying the story. Make sure to read and review. They always make me smile and update sooner :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

After leaving the scum of a client on the balcony to compose himself, JC went to stand nonchalantly by Takeshi. How dare that pig think he could just kiss her and get away with it. She was not there to be some rich man's entertainment. She was there to keep him alive, and if threatening his life would get him to back off so she could do her job, fine then. She'd never had to go that far before. Usually the first warning was more than enough. There was the one time she had nearly broken a man's hand when he couldn't keep his hands off, but that was the worst one. She had never tried to strangle any of her clients before. Most had been smart enough not to let it get that far.

"I see you are not with your date, Ms. Wilcox," Takeshi noted casually.

"He needed a private moment on the balcony," she replied.

"I hope you did not hurt him, Ms. Wilcox. It would reflect very badly on you, if he were," he warned.

"I did not harm him," she lied easily.

"Do not think I missed what happened on the dance floor," he said, his tone becoming icy. "This deal must go through smoothly. Your tendency for causing physical damage could become my undoing. He has already questioned your abilities, especially regarding dealings with previous clients. One slip up and he is liable to walk away. I cannot afford that."

"He will not walk away so easily," she said, steeling her voice against her own uncertainty and fear. Takeshi had never been cross with her before, so to hear it from him now was very unsettling.

"Let us hope so, for your sake. All it takes is one word, and you could easily be out of business. With him buying the company, it will be his word that will carry more weight in recommending you to others, not mine. Your future is dependent on his satisfaction. Do not forget that."

"I haven't," she said coldly. Takeshi wasn't her only regular client, but the only way she could keep having such well paying clients was by word of mouth. This wasn't the type of job you just put an ad out for in the paper. Well, not for the good jobs anyways. With Takeshi's business going to Stark, it would be Stark that people asked for recommendations, not Takeshi. Oh, sure, Takeshi might receive a few requests now and then, but he was no longer head of the company, no longer in charge of security personnel. No, more requests would go through Stark now.

"Then I would suggest you return to that balcony, apologize to Mr. Stark, and do whatever is necessary to make amends."

"I am here to protect him, not entertain him like a child. I will not debase myself for that arrogant playboy," she said defiantly. If she knew Stark, his idea of "making amends" would more than likely involve something sexual, and she refused to do that. Sure, she had teased him here and there, but there was a silent understanding that it was her choice as to how far it would go. She thought Stark had understood that quite well. Obviously she had been slightly mistaken. Regardless, she was a bodyguard, not a bimbo. She knew Takeshi was under a lot of pressure for this deal to go through, but that was hardly reason enough for her to give up anything for that spoiled brat.

"You work for me and will do as you're told, or you will see your job gone. Do I make myself clear, Ms. Wilcox?" he warned firmly.

She stared defiantly at him for a moment before levelly saying, "Understood, sir," and walked back to the balcony.

"So, Takeshi finally chewed your ass out for hurting someone? That's a first," came the voice of Carl, one of her more trusted coworkers, over her earpiece. He and several other men were positioned in the surrounding buildings and on the street so that she could have eyes everywhere. It made her job a lot easier if she knew where not only her target was but where the bad guys were as well. No doubt Carl had seen what had happened on the balcony.

"Shut it, Carl. You know you're supposed to keep the channel clear unless there's an emergency," she snapped.

"Yes, ma'am. Jeez, someone's cranky," he commented dryly.

"And if you don't shut up, I'm gonna cram your words down your throat with my foot," she snarled. When no reply came from the other end she figured he had gotten the message clearly. She was in no mood for games tonight.

When she finally reached the balcony she was about to start off with an apology wishing to get it over with, knowing that it would taste bitter coming out. She didn't think she'd done anything wrong, so she didn't see a need for her to apologize to him for anything. Her words were caught in her throat when she saw that he wasn't there anymore.

"Does anybody have eyes on Stark?" she said with her finger to her earpiece.

All her men reported that they had seen him leave the balcony, but nobody had a good view of him now. JC cursed under her breath. This man loved trying to find ways to make her job more difficult, and it was working pretty well. She stepped back to the party, scanning the faces of the crowd. How had she even missed that he had come back? Had he managed to slip by while she was talking with Takeshi? And even if he had, he shouldn't have been that hard to find. He was Tony Stark, for crying out loud. The man had all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

She looked further, past the crowded dance floor and bar area and toward the elevator. That was when she saw it. That smug grin on his face as he stared right at her from the inside of an elevator. An elevator that was heading down. She pushed through the crowd unapologetically until she reached the elevators and pushed several people away from the waiting car and gruffly hit the button for the first floor, refusing to let anyone else on. There were more than a few rude remarks, but she didn't really care. There were several other cars that would be there soon enough to take them down.

"Everyone keep your eyes out for Stark. He's headed down the elevator. Don't lose sight of him," she ordered fiercely.

"Should we try to apprehend him, if he tries to get away?" one of the other men asked.

"No, no one is to approach him. I'll be the one to bring him in. Is that clear? Stark is mine."

She heard confirmations in her ear as she tried to urge the elevator to move faster. It wouldn't. Instead, it ended up stopping three different times on the way down. She flatly said the car was full and hit the button to shut the doors. She only hoped that Stark had similar luck and was forced to stop more than once, or she might not catch up to him in time.

"I've got eyes on him," one of her men reported. "He's getting in a car."

"I'm almost down. Don't lose that car."

"JC, it's pretty nondescript, and there's a lot of others around it. We're not gonna be able to keep track of this thing for long. You had better hurry up," Carl said tersely.

She knew it would be down to the wire. She didn't really have a plan to get him out of the car or back to the party, or anywhere else for that matter, but she couldn't lose track of him. This would be just the opportunity anyone would need to get at him. If these terrorists were as smart as they appeared, they had probably been watching him since he landed. They would be waiting for a chance to get at him, and this was too perfect for them. At least, it would be, if she lost him. The only thing she could think to do was tail him to wherever he decided to go and then force him to go back with her. This wasn't the apology Takeshi had asked for, and at the rate things were going, Tony Stark was not going to receive one, sincere or not.

When the doors finally opened on the ground floor she burst from the elevator and made a bee-line for the valet. She pushed aside the owners of the next car that pulled up and took the driver seat with the promise that she would return the vehicle as soon as possible. She vaguely noticed in the rear-view mirror that the man who owned the car was flipping her off. She scoffed. It wasn't like she was stealing the car. She was just borrowing it without asking permission. Sure, most people considered that stealing, but she had every intention of bringing it back unlike others who did the same thing.

"Somebody give me directions and a license plate or something I can use to track this guy," she demanded.

"He's still heading south. You can still catch him," Carl reported.

She sped down the road as fast as traffic would permit, weaving in and out of lanes as Carl continued to update her on Stark's position. He wasn't going to get away from her. No target had ever escaped her before, and he was not about to be the first. She made a sharp right turn, barely applying her brakes as she skidded around and caught sight of the car Carl had described. She had him now. Barely a hundred feet away from her she started to close in on the vehicle. With only one more car between her and her target she swerved around it and pulled up alongside his. She tore her gaze away from the road to glare at him; except he wasn't in the car. She stared dumbfounded at some sixty plus year old who was completely oblivious to the fact she had been chasing him.

"He's not in the car. Repeat, he's not in the car. Are you sure you still have eyes on him?"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure grandpa here is not Tony Stark. Do you have eyes or not?" she demanded.

"That's a negative. We lost him," Carl finally admitted. JC cursed loudly as she hit the steering wheel. How the hell had he done it? Was he really just that lucky that they lost sight of him for one moment and gotten him confused with another car? At the next intersection she pulled a U-turn, earning several honks as she returned to the hotel.

When she handed the keys back to the valet she passed by the still fuming owner. He tried to get her attention, cursing at her as he did. She ignored him. She wasn't in the mood. When she approached the elevators, Takeshi was stepping out.

"Where is Mr. Stark?" he asked simply.

"He escaped, Mr. Takeshi," she reported, doing everything within her power not to avert her gaze. She was embarrassed and ashamed that it had come to this, but she would hold her head high. She would not accept this as a complete failure, not yet.

"What do you mean, 'escaped'? He is not a fugitive on the run, Ms. Wilcox," he said, his tone becoming less cordial.

"He left the building, took off in someone else's car. No one knows where he's gone," she clarified.

"I see," Takeshi said, his gaze becoming condescending and overbearing. "You will find him, Ms. Wilcox. If you do not, you can say goodbye to your job permanently. One bad review holds more power than a thousand good ones," he said and walked away.

She stared at him as he walked away to his car and left. She couldn't believe what she had just heard come from him. She had been loyal to him for so long only to be treated like this? It was ludicrous. Like it was her fault that Tony Stark had run away like he had. Okay, maybe she had been partly to blame, but she had done things to other men, and they didn't behave this way. If her son, Darren, had thrown a tantrum like that, she would have given him a tongue lashing before grounding him for the next month, if not longer. Tony Stark was nothing more than a five year old who was off pouting because he couldn't get what he wanted.

After telling her men on the other end of the radio to leave and return to their posts around Takeshi's office in the morning she radioed for the limo to pull around to the front and had the driver return her to the hotel. There was no way in hell she was going to traipse around Tokyo looking for him. It wasn't exactly a small town, and he was probably heading off to the nearest night club or bar, which there were several dozen within a five block radius of the hotel. If he wanted to get himself lost or killed or both, then he could go right ahead and do it. What did he care anyway? He wasn't even concerned that his life was in danger, and people that usually asked for her services were pretty convinced that they were in trouble. They didn't need more convincing than whatever threat they had first received. Convincing was not part of her job.

Since it was clear that she wasn't going to find him, she thought she might as well go back to the hotel and pack for home. She was probably already considered fired at this point, and she was going to plan for the first flight home. But first thing first, she wanted to get out of this ridiculous dress and take a shower. She downright hated dresses. She couldn't move right in them, couldn't do the job that she had trained herself for. It always felt like her skirt was going to snag on something and completely impede her, and then there was the fact that most of the ones she had were strapless or backless, which only made her feel more impeded. Sure, she could find a dress that was neither of those things, but most of them weren't very attractive. She figured if she had to dress like a peacock, she might as well look good while she was doing it. She would have preferred just wearing her jeans and a shirt, but for events like these, it just wasn't practical to help keep her cover.

When she finally made it back to her room she carefully removed her sticks from her hair and laid them on the bedside table. Most days she hated the damn things mostly because she was always having to be careful when she put them in so she didn't cut herself. In the heat of a fight she didn't really care how they came out, whether they cut her hair in the process or not. So far that had only happened once, and it had been easy to hide when she went back to her regular life. But at the end of the day when she was ready to let her hair down, she didn't feel like tempting Fate and having the damn things cut her hair.

With her hair released she ripped the skirt from the dress and tossed it in a chair. She removed her two thigh holsters and the ankle holster and put those on the side table as well. She then removed the knife sheath from one of her thighs and set that beside the guns as well. Some people thought she was paranoid or over cautious. She liked to think of herself as prepared. One never knew how many enemies would walk through a door or how many opportunities they would have to actually shoot them. She wasn't going to take any chances.

Without her weapons she usually felt naked, but tired as she was right now, it felt wonderful without the burden of her weapons. She collapsed on the bed and kicked her shoes off, relishing the feeling of finally being free of the torture devices. They were just one more thing she hated, but they were another necessary evil. Her boots, nice as they were, just didn't go with her dress.

She looked to the clock which flashed a green 10:15. It wasn't even that late, and she felt exhausted. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this tired during a job when there had been little to no action. This must have been what pure anger and frustration did to a person. She hated the feeling, and she hated the man that had caused the whole thing. Her nerves were mere tatters now, and she didn't know how much more of the man she could take. Her only saving grace was that tomorrow would be the last day, and she wouldn't even have to be with him for that long. All he had to do was sign some final paperwork, and he would be on his jet and heading far away from her. That is, if he ever showed up again. For all she knew he had already hopped on his personal jet and left the country.

She didn't want to think about that anymore. She was tired enough without having to think about the aggravating man anymore than she had to. She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to enjoy some bit of comfort and relaxation while she could. No doubt she was going to have to get up in the morning to face an angry Takeshi, and she was going to need every last bit of mental strength she had to keep herself restrained from saying something stupid that would only put her in a worse situation.

When she opened her eyes again and stared at the clock it had change to 11:55. She couldn't believe it. It had only felt like a few moments, but it had been nearly two hours. She cursed as she pulled herself up from the bed and finished undressing and pulled on her robe. She had gone to start up a shower, which she still wanted, and was about to step in when her cell phone started ringing.

_Now what_, she thought vehemently. If that was Carl or somebody else calling about Tony Stark, she didn't want to hear about it. Well, she did, if she still cared about keeping her job, but that didn't feel like such a high priority at the moment. She strode back to the bed and picked up the small device to check the caller I.D. It read _Home_.

She answered the call. She needed to hear his voice. "Darren, is that you?"

"Yep," came her son's reply on the other end.

"What are you doing calling so late?" she asked.

"I don't know what time it is there, but it's about 8:00 in the morning over here. You never checked in, so I figured I'd call you," he replied.

"Well, it's midnight over here," she groaned.

"Like you ever actually sleep, Mom," he pointed out.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school right now?" she asked trying to get the subject off of herself.

"No, it's an In Service day. No school 'til tomorrow."

"Okay," she mused tiredly. She never could get the time difference quite right. The only thing she knew was they were nearly a day behind in California. Beyond that, she didn't even try to guess.

"You sound wiped. Rough time?"

"That doesn't even begin to describe the day I've had today, but I don't want to talk about that. How's school? You keeping up with your homework?"

"A+ as always. Not much to report on the school front. How's Tokyo? Busy and crowded as usual?"

"That never changes," she said. That never changed no matter when she came. "Maybe I'll bring you next time so you can see for yourself," she offered.

"Seriously?" Darren asked with great anticipation.

"Well, it might never be Tokyo, but sure," she said.

"Why not Tokyo? That's where you always go, except for that one guy in Kyoto who pretty much never calls for you anymore. What happened?" he asked. Sometimes she hated just how much he knew about her job.

"I lost the guy, and Takeshi isn't really happy about it," she admitted sorely.

"You lost him? Did somebody take him or something? That never happens to you, Mom."

She sighed in frustration. "Nobody took him. He ran away from me, the little prick."

She swore she could hear a snicker coming from the other end. "You mean someone was finally scared enough by you that they ran away? Usually it's the bad guys that do the running, but the guy you're trying to protect actually ran away? I'm sorry, Mom, but that's just a little funny."

"Yeah, well, he's costing me my job, if he doesn't turn up," she said as she bit back several very apt descriptors. She tried to set a good example for her son by not cussing as much as she would have liked. That didn't mean she really didn't want to right then.

"Well, if he ends up hurt for some reason, it's his own fault for running away. Nobody can blame you for that, and if Takeshi can't see that, he's probably not worth working for anymore," Darren reasoned. She partially agreed with him, but there was that nagging little voice in the back of her mind that said she was still responsible for the man, if something bad did happen to him.

"Is Grandma there with you?"

"Not right now, but she said she'd be by later today. What? You don't trust me?"

"Not to keep the house clean. Have you not seen your room? It looks like Fat Man or Little Boy went off in there. Maybe both," she teased.

"Very funny, Mom," he said bemusedly. She chuckled at him. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be a simple teenager again. All that drama seemed so easy in comparison to what she had to deal with now. JC was about to continue with her taunting when she heard a slam at her door that sounded like someone falling on it.

"Hang on, Darren," she said into the phone before calling out, "Who is it?"

"Don't have my key," a slurred voice that vaguely sounded like Stark said. "Let me in, pleash."

"I have to go, sweetie. Trouble just came back," she said in a low voice.

"Okay, well, have fun with that, Mom. I love you," Darren said.

"I love you, too, honey. I'll be home soon," she said and hung up the phone. She strode to the door and unlatched it to reveal a very drunk Tony Stark, his body slumped over in the door way.

"'Bout time," he slurred as he stumbled into the room.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded as she shut the door and latched it behind him. "And for that matter, why did you take off like that? You made yourself an easy target for anyone that wanted to kill you."

"I wash just fine, ash you can see. I made it back in one piesh," he said as he stared bleary eyed at her.

"Yes, you did. Let's get you to bed before you fall on your ass and hurt yourself," she said impatiently as she tried to herd him back to his room. She wanted more than anything to cuss him out right there and then, give him a serious piece of her mind, but he was so drunk it wouldn't do any good. He probably wouldn't even remember it in the morning.

"That's soundsh pretty good. You should join me," he said with a chuckle as he tried to wrap an arm around her.

"That is happening when elephants learn how to sprout wings," she said dryly as she swatted away his hand. She didn't want to hurt him, not like this. She would actually feel bad about beating up a drunk, even if it was him.

"Oh, come on. You're no fun. You sound like a mother," he pouted.

"Yes, that's me, the mean mother of a bodyguard trying to keep you safe. Now, off to bed. You need to sleep this off before tomorrow morning. I'm not taking you in looking like something a dog dragged in," she said as she grabbed one of his arms and started pulling him toward the door between their rooms. Well, at least she wasn't going to lose her job now, not that she was sure she wanted to have anything to do with Takeshi after this.

"I can walk by myshelf," he whined as he jerked away from her. "You're always so grabby."

She let out another frustrated sigh as she let him try to stumble his way to the door. Needless to say, he was failing pretty miserably. She couldn't even fathom how he had managed to get this drunk in so short amount of time. What did he do? Go on a binge then decide it would be a good idea to come back? Whatever the case, she was partially happy he had managed to get back without injuring himself or anyone else, she hoped.

"If you're done being a five year old, will you let me get you to your room before you break something, specifically some body part of yours," she offered when he'd only managed to stumble a few feet in the wrong direction.

"Fine," he conceded with a 'hmph'.

She took him by the arm again and started for the door. Normally she would insist the doors between their rooms remain unlocked. Tonight she thought it wouldn't be a half bad idea to lock hers. She didn't need a drunk Tony Stark wandering into her room.

"I shtill think we could have shum fun. I won't tell if you don't."

She rolled her eyes at him. _Unbelievable_, she thought.

"Not a chance, Stark," she said firmly.

"Oh, come on," he said as he turned on her and half pinned her to the wall by the door. "I know you want me," he said, his tone low and lusty.

"You are very seriously drunk. And right now, I don't want to have anything to do with you. You just about cost me my job," she growled at him.

"It wouldn't be so bad. You work too much anyways. All work and no play makes for a dull Jane."

"My name's not Jane, so it doesn't really apply to me," she said more forcefully. "Now, get off me," she said and put her hands to his chest to push him off.

He swiftly grabbed her wrists and before she could think about it had her chest pinned to the wall, his body pressed against hers. She mused how he had pretty good reflexes for a drunk. He was also pretty strong, too. It made her wonder how this dysfunctional drunk was even capable of it. He couldn't walk three feet in the same direction, but he had pinned her quite easily and effectively. It was definitely odd. She reasoned that she had just been too relaxed, too easy on him since he was drunk. That had to be it.

"You keep doing mean things to me, you know that?" he mused. "I've been a nice guy, but you keep injuring me. That doesn't sound like part of your job."

"You have been far from a nice guy. You've questioned me at every turn, you've kissed me without my permission, you ran off, which nearly got me fired, and now you come in here and attack me. Remind me where the nice guy part is?" she demanded with…was that a quiver in her voice? Where the hell had that come from? She was suddenly aware that her heart was pounding in her chest so hard she could hear it.

"You know you wanted that kiss just as much as me," he said almost angrily as he got closer to her face, his hot breath on her neck, the faint smell of sake and whiskey wafting to her nose. It was foul.

"I don't want to hurt you, Stark. Let me go right now, and I won't break your arms," she warned. She could feel her body start to quiver beneath him. Was that fear? Was she honestly afraid of him? Why should she be? He was nothing she couldn't handle. The only reason she hadn't already turned on him was that he was still drunk, and she didn't want to inflict serious injury on him unless absolutely necessary.

"I know you want this, JC. You say no, but your body is always saying yes. That's why you're always teasing me. You know you want me, and I want you, but your work keeps getting in our way. Since Takeshi is already going to fire you, like you say, let's make the most of tonight," he whispered as he started to trail kisses from her ear down her neck.

The very touch made her skin crawl. That was it. Enough was enough. Drunk or not, he was going to get an ass-kicking he'd not soon forget. She tried to jerk one hand from his grasp, but she couldn't. His grip was like steel, and he pressed his body harder against hers. She bucked and pushed against him, but it had done little to get him off. He just laughed at her.

This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening. She tried to keep her head clear, tried to think of some sort of leverage she could use against him to get him off, but her mind went blank, her thoughts becoming cloudy with dark memories from the past. She hadn't felt like this since she was twelve years old, when _he_ had made her feel this way: helpless. She had sworn it would never happen again, but here she was. Sure, the circumstances were very different, but the outcome was becoming more similar by the second.

In another instant he tore her from the wall and had her down on the bed, his body towering over her as he took both of her wrists and held them above her head. He pulled up one of his legs and pinned it over one of hers, his knee grinding painfully into her leg. This was definitely a position she didn't want to be in.

"Tony, stop," she whimpered. Whimpering? Where the hell had that come from? She had taken on far worse opponents. So why couldn't she move, react the way that she needed to? She felt paralyzed, her limbs refusing to do what she was practiced at, tears stinging the back of her eyes.

He started kissing her, but it was not the gentle thing it had been just hours before. They were demanding, dominant, conquering kisses that terrified her more than it had at the party. She had been scared, because for a brief moment she thought she might kiss him back. It had been so long since she had been kissed by a man that it made her hormones do funny things with her mind, but when he had kissed her, little warning bells had gone off that there was nothing friendly about that kiss, nothing beyond wanting one more notch in his belt. She wouldn't permit him getting away with that, which was part of why she had reacted the way she had. This was just further confirmation that she had been right about him, but she had never suspected he would try something like this.

He took both of her wrists in one hand as the other started wandering down her body. She screamed at herself mentally that she needed to react, needed to move before it got any further out of hand. Her limbs refused to move. Her mind was not all there. It was trapped back in the past with _his_ body on top of hers, _his_ vile touch that took from her every childhood innocence that she had with that wicked deed.

_Move, JC, before it's too late_, she ordered herself. Her limbs quivered but still did not move to help her. His hand continued to wander down her torso to her thigh and was moving to go under her robe. _Move, damn it_. His hand inched its way up slowly as if savoring the awful moment. It was now or never. She had to do something.

_MOVE!_

Something finally snapped inside her, tearing her out of the horrible nightmare she was living and sprung her to action. She pulled her face away fiercely before slamming her forehead against his, a loud crack sounding as their skulls collided. He faltered just enough for her to bring her free knee up sharply into his abdomen, causing him to release her wrists. With her hands now free she punched him several times in the chest and abdomen and sent him rolling off the bed. Choosing not let the opportunity slip her grasp, she reached to the bedside table and grabbed one of her pistols as she rolled off the other side of the bed, trying to put as much distance between herself and that monster.

When she was finally on her feet she stood and carefully approached the still prone form of Tony Stark, her pistol ready to subdue him if need be. He didn't make any move to get up. Tentatively, she prodded him with her foot. Still no movement. He was knocked out cold. But she didn't move her pistol away. She stood over him, pistol drawn on him. She kneeled down and turned him over to make sure he was really unconscious. His body rolled along limply and made no movement that would suggest otherwise.

_Good_, she thought. She put the gun to his temple and steeled herself. She had been too young, too scared to do anything about the last person who had violated her like that, but she wasn't too young or too scared now. He would not get away with this. And who was to say he hadn't done something like this to someone else or would try to do it again in the future? No, she would end it now. Who cared about what happened to him? The world would be a better place without one more spoiled rich boy in it. She was ready to pull the trigger when she realized something. Besides that fact that just about everyone in the hotel would hear the gunshot, she would be the first one to be blamed. He was in her room, and it would be her bullet through his brain. No, this just wouldn't do.

A plan quickly formed in her head. A knife would be silent, and he was unconscious, so he wouldn't make a sound or really feel anything. At least he would be granted that mercy. It would take some careful devising to make it look like someone had broken into the room. She'd need to unlatch his door to make it look like someone had broken in. Next was trying to falsify the security cameras in the hallways. She wouldn't be able to create men breaking in, but she could tamper with them enough to make it look like someone else had in order to hide their evil doings. Lastly was the explanation why she hadn't done anything to stop the intruders. The door between their rooms would have to be left open to look like they had easy access to her. She'd then have to give herself an injection in the arm to leave an injection site mark. She wouldn't drug herself with anything harmful, just half a milliliter of a local anesthetic. Her arm would feel numb for a little while, but she would be just fine, and there wouldn't be a trace of it left in her system by morning when anyone cared to check on them. All she had to do to set it in motion was drag his carcass back to his own room and do the deed.

She grabbed both his arms and dragged him back to his room, throwing him across his bed as she did so. She adjusted his body to make it look like he had simply fallen to bed after getting so drunk. Everything was ready. She would just unlock his door and head back to her room. Everything was going to work out perfectly. She took the knife in her hand and held it to his throat, ready to make one little cut that would end his life.

Then came that nagging little voice in the back of her head. She hated that little voice. It told her that this was wrong, that this was not how it should be done. She was no killer. Well, that wasn't true. She had killed before, but each time was only in defense of herself or another. She was no longer in danger. This would be a cold-blooded killing. That little voice said she would never be able to live with herself, if she did this. And besides that, how could she ever look her son in the face and tell him what was the right thing to do in life, if she took this horrible man's life? The more she thought about it the more that little voice kept telling her that her carefully devised plan would never work, that she would be caught, and that would be the end of her life as she knew it.

With a shaky hand she pulled the knife away from his throat and went back to her room, shutting the door between their rooms and locking it. She let the knife clank to the floor as she headed toward the bathroom where the shower was still running. She walked into the steam filled room and stepped into the shower, not even bothering to remove her robe. She felt dirty, and not just for what he had done. For the first time in her life she had considered actually killing a man in cold blood. And she'd nearly done it, too.

Her legs became shaky as she carefully lowered herself to the tile floor, the hot water beating mercilessly upon her. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this much shame, for trying to do what she had done and for letting him get as far as he had. She had lost control over the situation, and for that she had no one to blame but herself. She buried her face in her hands and wept.

* * *

**AN: Here's the third chapter. Hope everyone is enjoying it so far. I'm going to start working on some ideas for doing another story based on the Avengers movie for anyone that is interested. I will also be putting a note on my profile and try to put notes in the other two stories just everyone is aware of it in case they're really interested. **

**Also, there won't be any further description into what's going on with JC's childhood past since that is already very well explained in BG 2, and I don't consider that to be a highlight for this story. It was addressed as far as it needed to be, and that will be the end of it in here. Anyways, leave me a review, because they always make me happy :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next morning JC rose early and cleared out her room long before Tony was expected to possibly be awake. She made sure to have a man posted outside his door to ensure that he got to Takeshi's office on time and safely and then off to the airport. She couldn't face him again, not after last night. She was sure Tony would barely recall most of it through his drunken stupor, but that wasn't what she feared. She couldn't bear to face him after what she had tried to do to him. Her guilt was more than she could bear, and she was sure that there was no way of hiding it.

She took her things to Takeshi's office where she would make sure the building was secure and report one last time then go home on his private jet, if he would allow it as he always had. If not, she would make arrangements for the first flight back to California. She needed to go home, needed to see her son and mother. They were the only things that kept her sane anymore, and she needed them now more than ever.

As she stood before Takeshi and gave her report with a steely gaze she couldn't help but notice a change in Takeshi. He no longer looked tense and angry as he had the night before. Whatever had been bothering him before had apparently subsided.

"Mr. Stark is safely at the hotel and should be arriving in the next ten minutes, sir," she reported.

"That is excellent news, Ms. Wilcox. But why are you not with him?" he asked perplexed.

"I must ask graciously to leave, Mr. Takeshi. I am no longer qualified for this position," she explained as simply as she could. She didn't want to try going into any details because she knew she would just have to lie to him, and she wasn't sure how convincing she would be.

"I realize I may have been too rash last night with you. There has been so much pressure that I lost myself. I do hope my thoughtless remarks are not the cause of your decision," he said apologetically.

"No, sir, this has nothing to do with that. I've been…compromised," she settled. "I can no longer do my job effectively."

He regarded her for a quiet moment before standing from his desk and moved to lean against the front of it. "I do not know what happened between you two last night. I thought your kiss was perhaps Mr. Stark being overzealous in his pursuit, but I saw the look in your eye. You have strong feelings for him, yes? Emotions you did not expect?"

She had strong feelings for him all right, but they were not the feelings that Takeshi was referring to, and while they were somewhat expected feelings, the strength of them was not. She had never despised a man more than Tony Stark.

"Yes, sir," she half lied and averted her gaze. "I'm sorry, sir. I lost objectivity."

"JC," he said softly, "I have known you for years. I know this is not an easy thing for you. You feel like a failure, but you must put such thoughts behind you. You are human, and as such, you are bound to have such feelings for another at some point. Tony Stark is a very charismatic character. I cannot blame you for having these feelings."

She stared up at him, her breathing leveled and controlled. She knew if she did not, she would betray something more to him. She understood what he was trying to say, but she did not want comfort or counsel.

"I implore you to stay and finish this job. He will sign the final papers, and then he will be escorted to the airport. In all, less than half an hour left. I am begging that you stay for that long. After that, I will gladly send you home, as you requested," he pleaded.

With the look she saw in his eyes, there was no way she could refuse him. With the information she had given him there was no reasonable excuse she could give to deny his request without giving him more information than she wanted to share. She would have to do it.

"As you wish, Mr. Takeshi," she said with a respectful bow. She heard Carl's voice suddenly over her earpiece that Tony's limo was a block away. She acknowledged him before turning her gaze back to Takeshi. "Mr. Stark is nearly here."

"Then you must be on your way. See him safely here and then to the airport, and I will do whatever I can to ensure that you receive only the best clients in the future," he promised.

"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Takeshi, and gratefully accept it. If you'll excuse me," she said and went for the elevator. As the car slowly lowered to the first floor she took a minute to collect her thoughts, devise her answers to any questions he might ask. No matter what, she would keep her civility, betray nothing of what she really felt. That was the only way she was getting through the next half hour. The doors opened and she stepped down the stairs to greet the incoming entourage, Tony Stark at the lead. Let the lies begin.

* * *

Tony awoke with probably the worst hangover he could ever remember having. His head ached and his eyes burned when he tried to open them, the sunlight being brighter than what he could handle for the moment. Gingerly he sat up from his bed, which he couldn't remember getting into last night, and his torso seemed to scream at the movement. He couldn't remember falling either, but he couldn't remember much of anything from the night before. He put a hand to his forehead in an attempt to rub out some of his tension, but that hurt as well. So not all the pain in his head was from his hangover. He must have bashed his head on something. Damn he was a mess.

Trying to get his bearings back he stared down at himself and realized he hadn't even bothered trying to get out of his clothes before sacking out. His poor suit was horribly wrinkled. His drycleaner was going to love him for this. Next, he scanned the room, vaguely wondering why JC hadn't already come in to berate him for leaving so suddenly last night. He noticed that the door between their rooms was shut. That was odd. She was the one who had insisted it remain open, and she hadn't been afraid of leaving it open for any reason. So why had she shut it?

He staggered to his feet and walked to the door. When he finally managed to reach it he knocked on it calling out, "JC." There was no answer from the other side. He put an ear to the door to see if he could hear any movement or maybe hear the shower running. Still nothing. He rapped on the door again saying, "Hey, JC, you in there?"

Suddenly there was a knock at his door and a male voice asking for him.

"Who is it?" he replied warily.

"My name's Carson. JC told me to have you ready and at the office in forty five minutes, sir," the voice replied.

"Where is JC?" he asked as he started to remove his clothes so he could take a shower, his body protesting with almost every movement.

"She's gone, sir," the voice reported.

That was definitely odd. She never went anywhere without him. He knew she wasn't very happy with him, but she was the one who had said that an attack could come at any time and insisted that she was to protect him at all times. So what had changed? Trying not to worry himself he quickly finished undressing and got in the shower.

The hot water felt good on his achy body, soothing away some of his pain. When he had gotten his shirt off he could see several bruises across his chest and abdomen. He also noticed a bruise on his forehead when he had gotten in the shower. He wasn't sure what he had done, but whatever it was had been very painful. He tried wracking his brain for some sort of explanation. Surely he would have remembered falling on his face.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, drifting back to last night. He could vaguely remember leaving the bar he had wound up at and had wanted to go to bed. There had been some horrible elevator ride up where had pushed almost every button expect the one he wanted. Then there was something about his door refusing to open. But it had to have opened, right? He had ended up back in his room. As he thought harder about it he could almost recall JC at his door. She must have heard him banging on the door and finally let him in. That explained how he had gotten in, but he still didn't remember anything that could have caused the bruises he had.

He turned off the shower and dried himself off. After rummaging through his bag he found the small bottle of concealer Pepper had packed. He tried to tell her he really didn't need it, but she had insisted on it in case he needed to cover any dark circles under his eyes or something. Appearance was everything. Well, he certainly didn't have any dark circles, but it would work well enough on his bruise. As he poured the liquid onto his finger and started rubbing it across his forehead he could vaguely remember talking with JC. He didn't remember the whole conversation or what they had been talking about, but it probably had something to do with him running away or being drunk or both. So why was there some strange recollection of them being in bed together?

That couldn't be right. She would kill him for that. That part had to be some sort of dream. But none of it explained his injuries. Maybe he had hit his head in a doorway or something when he tried to enter, but his torso was something else entirely. He noted their size and shape, and an idea crossed his mind. He balled his hand into a fist and placed it over one of the bruises. It was about the right shape for a fist, but it was definitely smaller than his own fist. But it wasn't too small to have been a woman's. She had beaten him up? She might have been pissed, but beating him up seemed a little over the top, even for her. Unless the part about them in bed hadn't been a dream. Crap. What the hell had he done?

His memory was one big blur that didn't make any sense, but he could believe that in his drunken stupor he had tried to seduce her and failed miserably. She had warned him that she would hurt him, if he tried to kiss her or anything else along those lines ever again. That much at least made sense.

With the dawn of this epiphany he quickly dressed, packed his bag, and left with the man who had been standing outside his door. He had half hoped that JC would be in the car so he could possibly apologize to her, not that she would possibly accept it. She wasn't there. He was beginning to realize that she wouldn't be there at all. Why would she need to be? He was just going to sign the papers and leave. If someone had wanted to kill him, they would have done so by now. He felt a bit smug at being right about that part, but that quickly faded to be replaced by a certain amount of guilt. What if he had been part of the reason for her sudden departure? He didn't really want to consider it, but it was a very strong possibility.

When the car pulled up, Carson stepped out and followed him to the door. As he stepped across the threshold he finally looked up to see JC coming down the giant stone staircase, a neutral expression on her face. So, she wasn't completely gone. Part of him was surprised and almost glad to see her there, but another part of him was wary about her being there. She may not betray any emotions to others, but he knew that one look into those blue eyes would tell him what she really wanted to say or do to him, none of it being good.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark. This way," she said shortly and turned to lead him up the stairs.

He didn't get a good look at her eyes, but they didn't look angry. If anything, they looked almost dead. That was definitely different. He followed her to the elevator and stood silently beside her. When the awkward silence became too much for him, Tony finally spoke. "About last night, I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked tersely. "Running away, nearly getting me fired, or everything else?"

He winced. He hadn't meant to get her in that much trouble. Okay, maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he had meant to make her look a little foolish, but getting her fired wasn't the overall intention.

"Look, I didn't think you would get in that much trouble. It was my fault, remember? Takeshi can't blame you for that," he reasoned.

"It's my job to keep you out of trouble. You running away is you getting into trouble. Ergo, it's my fault," she said a bit snappy.

He didn't try to argue with her. He knew he was just going to end up pissing her off more than she already was. He didn't really agree that she was to blame 100%. Okay, maybe he agreed a little bit. Maybe about 95%. She had tried to strangle him, after all.

"So, did anything happen last night when I got back to the hotel?" he asked tentatively.

"Like what?"

"Nothing in particular. I think I fell up a flight of stairs or something. I didn't fall on my face when I got back, did I?" he asked, hoping she would fill in a few gaps.

"As far as I know, you did not injure yourself on anything in your room, if that's what you're asking," she said dryly.

"How did I get back in my room anyways?"

"You were banging on the door, so I let you in, and you went to bed. You don't remember?"

"I don't remember much of anything last night. Pretty sure I was dreaming about you at one point," he said in a teasing tone hoping that would cause some sort of reaction to confirm his theory that she had been the one to cause his injuries.

"What were we doing?" she asked disinterestedly. That hadn't helped him much.

"You finally came to your senses and went to bed with me. Don't remember how it ended or how it began really," he mused. That would definitely get something out of her. It had to.

"Hm," she said in the same disinterested tone as the elevator doors opened and she stepped out. There was nothing. She didn't even give him a cold glare or even a slight reprimand. Had she gotten in so much trouble with Takeshi that she wouldn't even treat him the way she always had? As much as he hadn't really enjoyed it, at least it was a norm for her, something he could count on. As if she wasn't mystery enough, this just added to it and not in a good way.

"Hey," he said, stopping in the hallway. He figured that would make her stop, get her attention.

"What?" she said, stopping and barely turning to look at him.

"Why were you gone this morning?"

"Why do you care?"

"You're the one who insisted on not leaving me alone, and after last night I figured that would be reason for you to pay closer attention. But you just left without a word and left some random guy at my door. I don't pretend to know you very well, but I do know that's not normal for you."

She finally turned completely to face him. He expected to see anger or coldness in those eyes, but it was as he had barely seen before in the lobby. They were emotionless, practically dead. Something was definitely wrong.

"Why do you even care? You're the one who didn't want a bodyguard in the first place. I'd have thought you would have been happy. You finally got your privacy back," she seethed.

"Look, if anything I did last night got you in trouble, I'm sorry. I'll talk to Takeshi about it and–"

"Save your pathetic apology, Stark," she interrupted curtly. "It won't do you or me any good. You're just here to sign some papers and leave; that's it. The sooner you get that done, the sooner I get to go home. Now, let's go," she said tersely and continued down the hall.

Tony finally decided to give the matter up. She wasn't going to budge on it, obviously. Takeshi had apparently been pretty mad at her, and she probably had actually gotten fired, or at least she had been promised very bleak prospects for any future job. Whatever the case, he had been the cause of everything that was going wrong for her. He almost felt bad about it, but he reminded himself that she was the one who had attacked him, overreacted because of one little kiss. It wasn't even a kiss really. It was closer to a peck than a kiss. In reality, the whole thing was closer to her fault than his. So why did he still have that horrible sinking feeling in his gut that he had done something wrong?

He followed her into the office and they went through the pleasantries before sitting down to business. A notary stood by to make sure all the necessary papers were signed and went through all the legal stuff that Tony just tuned out. Pepper was good for this sort of thing, and he was sure she would read over everything when he got back, make sure he didn't miss anything important.

As their meeting was coming to a close, he noticed JC put a hand to her ear, looking like she was listening intently to something. Did she have some sort of radio in her ear? She had never seemed to use it before. Something must have been happening.

Her body visibly tensed as she approached the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out fixedly on something. She then glanced to one of the glass shelves behind Takeshi's desk. In one fluid motion she grabbed a pair of binoculars that looked like they were older than Tony and gazed through them out the window again.

"JC?" Takeshi said quizzically as he motioned for the notary to leave.

She held up a hand for silence as she continued to stare out the window. A tense moment passed before she suddenly and violently tossed the binoculars aside and yelled, "Get down!" as she rushed at the them, tackling them to the ground and covering them with her body as an explosion of light and sound tore through the room, the slight sound of breaking glass reaching Tony's ears before he lost what was left of his hearing.

It took a few seconds before he could feel the weight of JC's body finally coming off him. He opened his eyes, his vision still a bit blurry to see most of the room in shambles. So far as he could tell, nothing was on fire, which was probably a good thing. There was a loud ringing in his ears which prevented him from understanding what JC was trying to yell at him. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, her lips vaguely looking like they were forming his name and something along the lines of, "Are you okay?"

He closed and opened his eyes several times trying to pull everything back into focus as he responded, "I'm fine."

Before he could get his bearings back she grabbed him by one arm and was forcing him to his feet. As he stumbled forward he was barely aware that Takeshi wasn't near him anymore. What had happened to him? He wasn't given time to think about it as JC was pushing him toward the door. As his hearing started to return he heard her yelling into her earpiece.

"Carl, we've got one hell of a flash-bang on seventeen. Give me a sit-rep."

She paused for a moment in the hallway allowing Tony a moment to collect himself as she listened to the guy on the other end of her radio.

"Got it," she finally said. "Brax has Takeshi and is heading to the East exit. I'm taking Stark West. We'll meet at the bottom. Keep me apprised," she said and turned her attention back to him. "Let's go, Stark. We've gotta move," she said gruffly and guided him further down the hallway before stopping at a wood panel.

"What's going on? What just happened?" he demanded when she didn't explain anything.

She pushed on the panel, an audible 'click' sounding before she pushed the panel to the side to reveal an inset in the wall. Inside was an array of weaponry along with a backpack that was designed to go over one shoulder.

"Those terrorist you said wouldn't attack, just attacked," she replied shortly as she untied her shirt and retied it around her waist, her knives now in easy reach. She then removed a double shoulder holster and put it on, snapping a buckle across her chest to keep it in place. She then pulled out two black vambraces that went from just below her elbow all the way over her hands and snapped them in place. Next she grabbed an ankle holster and attached it followed by another holster around her opposite thigh. Next was some sort of utility belt that had more spare ammo and who knew what else. Finally she slung the backpack on and grabbed the last weapon in the cache: a military grade assault shotgun.

"How bad is it?" he asked tentatively as she finished arming herself.

"They're on levels 30, 15, 10, and the lobby, between ten and twenty men per level. So far, the men on 30 have gone for the roof, lobby men are holding position as well as level 10. Level 15 men are heading toward us. We have to move," she ordered and led him down the hall toward one of the stairwells.

"How did they get in the building? I don't understand. This is impossible. This isn't happening," Tony stammered, his heart beating against his eardrums. This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening.

"Listen to me," she barked as she grabbed one shoulder and pinned him against a wall. He flinched as he stared dumbly at her. "I need you to not freak out right now. A dozen men are about to come through that door," she said, pointing down the hall. Tony stared down the hall and immediately started doing exactly the opposite of what she just said. There was a small army in the building, and she wanted him to be calm? Hell, no.

"Hey," she ordered with a sharp slap across his face. That effectively brought him out of his stupor. "I know you're scared," she said sympathetically. "But I need you here in this moment. That's the only way you're staying alive. Got it?"

He stared into her eyes hoping to find some sort of reassurance that she could and would do what she said. Her eyes were no longer dead and lackluster as before. They were bright and alert with determination and a hint of cold calculation. He gave a small nod, his voice caught somewhere in the back of his throat. He knew that she could and would do what she promised.

"Good," she said, seeming satisfied as she released him. "Follow me and do exactly as I say, when I say it," she ordered and started back toward the door, the sounds of heavy footsteps echoing in the stairwell slowly getting louder as the men encroached on their position. "Stay behind me, and get low, if they start shooting."

The prospect of people shooting at him didn't do much to calm his fears, but he knew that she would stop them. Whatever doubts he had about her and what she was capable of were gone. He had to trust her now. He had stupidly assumed that his life was in no danger before. Not anymore. This was real, and they meant business. She was his only option for survival.

The footsteps grew louder until he heard the sound on the door handle turning. She raised her weapon, the 'click' of the safety being disengaged sounding as she trained her sights down the barrel. Let the fun begin.

* * *

**AN: I know this one was a little shorter, but the next few will be longer to make up for it. Don't forget to leave a review. They always make me smile :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

As men started to emerge from the stairway, JC opened fire on them, one shot for every man. Each of them slumped dead to the floor, a single hole in the middle of their chests. They stepped over the five bodies and through the door where more men were waiting. JC shot the first man in her sights which caused the one next to him to hesitate for a moment. JC turned her gun on him and tried to shoot him as well, but the gun wouldn't fire. Without missing a beat she brought the gun up and hit him square in the jaw sending him to the ground next to his fallen comrade.

More men made their way up the stairs. JC dropped the malfunctioning gun and grabbed the railing on either side of the stairs and kicked the man in the lead of the group. He started to fall down the stairs, but she kept her feet on his chest, sliding down the railing with him and riding him like a surf board as he crashed into the two men behind him.

She then swiftly pulled a knife from her vest and ended her surf board's life before tossing it at one of the men who had managed to get back on his feet and was aiming a gun at her. He fell dead as the third man pulled out his own weapon and managed to shoot off a round. JC pulled the pistol from her hip and shot the man.

As Tony watched the scene with a dazed expression he barely noticed as the man that JC had bashed with her shotgun got up and wrapped one arm around his throat, a gun pointed at his temple as incentive not to do anything stupid.

"JC!" Tony cried out.

She turned swiftly, her pistol aimed at his captor, who was effectively using him as a human shield. Tony could now see blood running down her right arm. So, her attacker's bullet had managed to hit something.

"Drop it, or he dies," the captor growled, jamming the pistol harder against his temple.

"Your boss won't like that. No one sends an army just to kill one man. I'm guessing you need to deliver him alive. You won't do it," she said tauntingly.

"The boss would prefer alive, but we have orders to kill him if–"

He was suddenly cut off by the 'bang' of JC's gun and went limp, his body pulling Tony down. Tony scrambled out of the dead man's grasp as quickly as he could. As he stared at the mess in front of him he could taste bile in the back of this throat. That was closer than he ever wanted to be to a corpse. He put the back of one hand to his mouth to try to keep the horrible taste where it was and not let what was associated with it from escaping.

"Tony, let's go," she ordered from the landing.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Tony said as he slowly made his way down the stairs. Any faster and he was sure he was going to lose it.

"Hey, don't lose your cookies on me now. We still have sixteen floors to go. You can puke after that."

"You're shot," he said as he reached her, noticing the lengthening trail of blood on her arm.

She stared at for a moment before saying, "You're only shot if it stays in. It's just a graze. I'll be fine."

Tony didn't argue as he tried to ignore the other bodies he had to step around as she led him down the stairs. When they reached the door with a large white fifteen painted on the wall she made him stop.

"What are we doing? I thought we were going down?" he questioned.

"We are, but we're going to take care of a little trash before we do," she said as she removed her backpack and started rifling through it.

"Why don't we just make a run for it?"

"I don't feel like getting flanked by these guys. It's only a matter of time before they figure out their buddies failed and come after us," she said as she pulled a canister and some sort of scope with a tube attached to it out of her pack.

"What are those?" Tony asked. He was vaguely aware of what they were, but his brain wasn't functioning quite properly to fully make the connections.

"Flash-bang, camera," she said as she held up the respective objects. She then threaded the tubing for the camera through the crack at the bottom of the door and peered through the scope. When she was satisfied she pulled the tubing back and stuffed it back in her pack.

"Put this on. Hang on to it," she said as she started shoving the pack over his head. He did as told and put one arm through the strap so it sat snugly on his back. "Stay here until I get back. Do not come in here unless you hear people coming up the stairs. Understood?"

He nodded. She then picked up the grenade and pulled the pin. She waited about two seconds before opening the door and tossed it in, slamming it shut just as a 'bang' was heard. She pulled one of the pistols from her shoulder holsters as she burst through the door and started shooting. There were three shots followed by a flurry of other shots, most likely from whoever else was in there. Tony sat in the stairwell wondering just what she was doing to them. She had shot a guy in the head without having a very clear shot. Most people wouldn't have attempted that with a hostage. She was either overconfident or very skilled. Tony was hoping it was the latter, but he wasn't entirely sure yet.

When Tony heard silence for a few seconds, he thought that it was safe enough to enter. While there was that little voice that said he should wait for JC to come back, he wasn't very keen on sitting out on the stairs by himself. He carefully opened the door and stepped through to be greeted by more bodies. He counted only five bodies which meant there had to be more somewhere, since JC had not yet returned. Tony carefully stepped over the bodies and was about to call out for JC when more gun fire went off, several holes tearing through the wall at Tony's side.

He quickly ducked down and covered his head. Now he was really regretting not listening to her. He considered crawling back to the door, but that would mean he would have to crawl back over the dead bodies. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Tony didn't know what else to do, but he sure as hell didn't want to stay there with dead bodies. He started crawling forward hoping that he wouldn't run in to more.

The hallway ended and opened up to a room filled with cubicles. At the other end of the room Tony could make out five men, each of them with guns drawn. About fifteen feet away JC was crouched in one of the cubicles, using it for what little protection it provided.

One of the men at the end of the hallway started to say something in Japanese, which Tony couldn't understand. He watched as JC turned her head and looked back at him with a wide eyed stare that quickly turned to an angry glare.

With a quick glance at her attackers she jumped from her cover and started firing as she moved back toward him. Two men fell dead while the other three kept shooting. It looked like she was going to make it when one shot tore through her right leg. More shots were fired and it looked like she had been hit again as she put a hand on her left shoulder and ducked into another cubicle just in front of Tony. Her face was contorted with pain as she braced herself inside the cubicle. When she removed her hand it was covered in blood. Tony never saw it come out the other side which meant the bullet was still in her shoulder. That probably wasn't good.

The men started shouting something at her in Japanese again. He wasn't sure what they were saying, but it had something to do with him since he had heard his name somewhere in the garbled mess of language. She shouted something back, but by the sound of her tone it didn't sound like a defiant no-you-can't-have-him. It sounded more like a surrender. They exchanged more words and then she tossed her guns out into the open.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tony whispered.

"Shut up, and stay put," she whispered back through gritted teeth.

Two of the men started to approach and gave out more orders. She replied and carefully stood from her hiding spot with her hands raised. They ordered something else, shaking their guns at her, and she replied by showing that she couldn't lift her hands any higher because of her injury. They didn't seem to care as they demanded it again. She grabbed her injured arm by the wrist, lifted it over head and laced her fingers, her left arm quivering at the effort. There were more orders as they motioned for her to get down. Tony could barely watch as she went down to her knees, her gaze never leaving the men in front of her. She was essentially asking for them to kill her. What the hell?

Tony continued to watch as one of the men aimed his gun at her head and was ready to pull the trigger. He barely saw it before JC grabbed the sticks in her hair and thrust them into the man. The man beside him was dead just as quickly by one of those sticks, and then she threw the other one at the final man. It lodged itself at the base of his neck, and he let out a horrible gurgling noise before falling to the ground.

"Tony, get your ass over here," JC ordered as she stepped away from the two corpses and lowered herself down against the wall of one of the cubicles.

He did as told and knelt down beside her.

"Give me the pack," she said, holding out her hand for it. Tony shrugged it off and handed it to her shakily as he gazed at all the blood on her leg. "How many were on the stairs?" she asked as she rifled through the bag.

"What?" Tony said stupidly.

"The guys on the stairs," she repeated as she removed the shirt from around her waist and ripped off one of the sleeves. "How many would you say there were?"

"Uh…t-there weren't any guys on the stairs," he stammered.

She turned a fierce gaze at him. "What?" she asked in a low voice.

"I heard it go quiet, so I thought it was safe. I didn't–"

"Stop," she said, holding up a hand. "You mean to tell me that there was nobody in the stairwell, and I just took two bullets to save your ass for nothing?" she asked. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"I'm sorry. I just…" he stopped when he saw her smile and laugh a little, but it wasn't a humorous laugh. It was one of those laughs where you did it because you didn't really know how else to react yet to a situation.

"You're sorry? Well, that's just great, now isn't it? That just makes everything better, doesn't it? You know, I just have one more question for you. You ready for this one?" she said, sarcasm dripping off her every word, her smile still on her face. "Are you out of your damn mind, you blinking idiot!" she exclaimed as she grabbed him by his jacket and yanked him in close to receive the full force of her anger. Tony couldn't help but flinch and cringe at the sound of her voice.

"You could have gotten me killed, and for what? Huh? To satisfy some curiosity of yours? Why couldn't you just do as you were freaking told?" she spat as she pushed him aside. "Damn, stupid, rich boy. You think this is some kind of game?" she demanded as she started to bandage up her leg with part of the sleeve and her belt.

"No, I just–"

"Then what the hell were you thinking?"

"I was scared!" he exclaimed. Sudden silence settled in the office as they just stared at each other. "I got scared, okay? I wasn't thinking straight, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you hurt. I just…I just got scared," he muttered as he lowered his head and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. Why the hell did this have to happen to him? What had he ever done to deserve this? He hadn't meant for any of this to happen, especially JC.

"Tony, look at me," she said in a more gentle tone. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bear to face her fury again. "Tony, damn it, look at me," she demanded. Well, when she said it like that it was hard to refuse. He looked up at her guiltily. "This is why you need to listen to me and trust me. Got it? We can't afford any more stupid stunts."

He nodded his understanding. He wasn't going to let her down again. No more doubting. She knew what she was doing, and it was about damn time he accepted that. Sure, she might be a crazy woman with a gun, but she was a crazy woman that was going to get him out alive, if he would let her.

"Good. Now, get over here. We don't have a lot of time," she said and started pulling things out of her bag. There was a needle and syringe filled with some sort of clear fluid, a pair of forceps, and then she pulled one of her knives from her vest. "You're gonna have to get the bullet out of my shoulder," she said as she handed him the knife.

"What? I can't do that! I'm not qualified for that. I blow things up, not cut people open," he protested.

"If I could get it myself, I would do it, but, obviously, I can't. Stop being a baby and take the damn knife. I'll walk you through it as best I can," she said and shoved the knife in his hand.

"You don't understand. I really can't do this. I'm just gonna make things a lot worse," he said more fervently. It wasn't that he didn't trust her decision. He didn't trust himself with a knife. And he certainly wasn't too keen on the sight of more blood.

"Oh, for heaven sakes," she huffed and grabbed one of her pistols that she had tossed away. She checked the clip and cocked the gun. "You've got three seconds to get started, or I swear to God that I will put a bullet through your foot just so you can see how it feels," she said as she pressed the barrel of the gun against his shoe for emphasis.

"Shit! Okay, I'm doing it," he conceded. Yep, definitely a crazy woman. She shifted so that he could get a better view of the wound, which wasn't very good through her vest. "I need your vest off," he said shakily as she still kept the gun on his foot. With the vest off he could now see the hole clearly, which was still bleeding. "Okay, what now?"

"You're going to have to make a small incision to make the hole a bit bigger so you can pull the bullet out. You cannot hesitate, or it's going to hurt a lot more. Got it?" she instructed.

"Got it."

She pulled out another knife and put the handle between her teeth. "Okay, do it," she ordered.

He took a deep breath, inserted the tip of the knife into the wound, and began cutting. She inhaled sharply and groaned as the knife cut through her skin, but Tony did not hesitate. He was afraid she'd shoot him, if he did.

"Now, get it out," she said when he had finished and handed him the forceps. Once again he could taste bile in the back of his mouth as he took the forceps. There was way too much blood for his liking. Doing as he was told he stuck the forceps into the wound and started feeling for the bullet. It didn't take him long to find it, and he pulled it out being careful to not cause any more damage than he thought he was probably doing. He tossed the mangled piece of metal and sat back on his heels.

"Now I'm really gonna be sick," he said as he put a hand over his mouth.

She turned her head to look at him and saw just how serious he was. He was pretty sure his face was looking pretty green by now.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, don't you puke on me. We're not finished yet. Just hold it for two more minutes, all right?"

"There's no two minutes about it. I'm gonna puke," he said and turned away so that he at least wouldn't get it all over her.

"Listen to me, Stark. Just breathe for me. In your nose, out your mouth, okay? Hey, look at me," she said and put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Just breathe with me, okay," she said and started breathing with him like she had said. Her hands were cold on his face which helped a little bit as did the breathing thing. He was still pretty sure he was going to puke later, but it was under control. For now.

"I'm fine. I'm good. Let's just finish this before I change my mind," he finally said.

"Okay. Take this and apply some pressure to it," she said and handed him a section of her torn off sleeve. He did as told as she uncapped the needle and inserted it into her shoulder just above the wound. She winced and groaned before removing the needle and bent it out of shape against the floor. "Take these and start wrapping it," she said and handed him several strips of fabric that had been cut off from her shirt. It wasn't pretty, but he got it done and tied it off as best he could.

"Are we done now?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, we're done. Go over there and puke, if you're gonna do it," she said as she started gathering up her weapons.

"I'll be fine for a while. Just don't ever make me do anything like that again," he said with a relieved sigh.

She smiled and chuckled at him. "Oh, come on, Stark, you did great. Maybe with a little extra training you could become a field medic," she teased. He gave her an exasperated glare, which she just smiled at. "Look on the bright side. You're doing a lot better than me during my first fight."

"Yeah, right," he said disbelievingly.

"No, seriously. I'm gonna tell you this, but if you breathe a word of it to anyone, I will deny it. The first time I was ever in this kind of situation, you know, guns shooting, people dying, friends bleeding on me, I messed myself in the first two minutes," she admitted.

Tony couldn't help but stare in disbelief. "I don't believe you. You're just trying to make me feel better."

"No, I swear to God. I wasn't always such a badass bodyguard. I had a pretty rough start. But you've made it almost fifteen minutes without losing control of your bodily functions. You should be proud of yourself," she said with a small smile.

That didn't really make him feel any better. So he'd managed to not completely fall apart in two minutes. Big deal. He'd still managed to get her shot twice. Well, by her definition it was only once since the one in her leg came out. Either way, she had gotten hurt because of him. He doubted she had done that to any of her friends in her first fight.

"What was that stuff?" he asked pointing to the discarded syringe, trying to get his thoughts off losing his lunch.

"It's an anesthetic. It'll only last about fifteen minutes, though," she explained.

"What about your leg? Don't you have another shot?"

"Have you ever tried walking when your leg's fallen asleep? It's impossible. That's what it's like with this stuff. I'm no use, if I can't walk," she said.

"Then how can you fight with your shoulder numbed like that?"

"I can work through that. I know what to do. Don't worry," she assured him as she started to pull herself up.

"What about these things?" he asked, tapping one of her vambraces. "They're a bit medieval, don't ya think?"

"It's Japan. There's always someone with a katana or some other low tech, sharp weapon. These just give me a little more protection."

"Lovely," Tony said sarcastically.

"I need you to not be a helpless target. Can you use one of these?" she asked as she pulled the gun from her ankle holster and held it out to him.

"Uh, not exactly."

"You've gotta be kidding me," she said with a frustrated sigh. "You make weapons, but you don't know how to use one? Do you see a problem with this picture?"

"I know how they work," he said defiantly. "I just don't use them or practice with them."

She made a gruff sound before shoving the gun in his hands. "It's really simple, Stark. The bad guy comes up to you. You point the gun and pull the trigger, if he's trying to kill you. I'm not asking you to fight them. I just need you to be able to protect yourself, if the need rises. Got it?"

He stared at the weapon for a moment acknowledging her with an affirmative. He only prayed he didn't have to try using the damn thing. Target practice was one thing, which he had never done, but taking a life was something else. Honestly, he didn't think he could do it, even if his life depended on it. Trying not to think about it too much he followed her back to the stairs where she pulled out a coil of rope from the backpack and then gave it back to him. He was beginning to wonder if it wasn't like Mary Poppins's bag where it was never ending, because he just didn't know how all that stuff managed to fit in there. What was next? A grenade launcher?

"What are you gonna do with that?" he asked as she began uncoiling the rope.

"You'll see soon enough. Take this and tie it up there on that railing. Make sure it's good and secure," she said and pointed to the railing one flight up directly across from them. He did as told, tugging on the rope to make sure the knot was tight enough that it wouldn't slip.

"What exactly is the plan here?"

"If they're as dumb as I think they are, they'll come out that door within the next two minutes. When they do, I'm gonna get the jump on 'em and take them out. Once I'm down there I want you to wait forty five seconds, then follow. Are we perfectly understood?"

"Yeah, except for the part where the rope comes in," he responded.

Before JC could answer him he heard the sound of a door on one of the lower levels opening and men moving up the stairs. Right on cue.

"You'll see soon enough," she repeated and climbed over the railing. Before Tony could get a word in she let go of the railing and started sliding down the rope faster than Tony would have considered safe. Hell, the whole stunt wasn't safe. He watched as she used her momentum to then swing around and kick the lead men back down the stairs, landing on top of them as they tumbled and began dispatching them. Tony could hear the sounds of gun shots and slashing as she no doubt used her knives on the men.

Tony started counting down from forty five not quite sure if he should count fast or slow. He was in no rush to join the bloodbath that was happening just a couple stories below, but he also didn't want to piss off JC by taking too long when they really needed to get out of there. Figuring there was no good speed, he added two extra seconds, just in case he had been too quick, and then started down the stairs. He could still hear sounds of battle and wondered if he should continue. What if there were more men than she had expected? What if she wasn't doing as well as she expected because of her injuries? Tony ran the variables through his head and they all came out negative.

He made it down to level thirteen and could now see the fight clearly. There were bodies everywhere on the stairs and strewn over the railing, and there were still more men coming. JC was fighting three men when one of them seemed to spot him and broke off. The man raced up the stairs, and Tony drew his gun. With only a flight of stairs separating Tony and his would-be assailant Tony was terrified. They both had their guns trained on each other, but Tony was sure this man would not hesitate, if he had to shoot.

"Drop it, Stark. You don't have it in you," the man challenged.

Tony's hands began to shake, and he could feel the perspiration on his forehead. If there was a God, he was praying for a miracle, that he wouldn't have to shoot. They stared each other down, the man just waiting for an excuse. Tony gripped the trigger, ready to squeeze it in another instant if he had to. It was all instinct now. Kill or be killed. He would have no choice. The last second came, and as he was about to pull the trigger when a knife buried itself in the man's neck, and he fell dead. Tony's knees went weak as he stared down the stairs to see JC one floor below. He didn't even want to think about how she had made that hit.

"Come on, Stark," she called.

Tony didn't need any more urging. He rushed down the stairs to her side and continued to follow her down. That had been too close. If anyone was going to do any killing today, he wanted it to be her. At least she didn't have any big qualms about it. Tony kept his eyes forward as he passed by the mass of bodies and continued until they were about to pass the door for the tenth floor. He thought she had taken care of them all, but that was obviously wrong when the door for ten suddenly slammed open hitting JC in the face.

She ordered him to move back as a man burst through the door with that katana she had mentioned. She pulled a knife from her vest and defended against the blade as best she could, but it looked like she might be outmatched. The man was obviously skilled with blade as he deflected her attempts to hit him and got in several good strikes to her body. The vambraces were finally coming in handy as she used them for what little defense she could offer. With her injuries she was no match. With one hit he slashed her right leg right about where she had been shot and disarmed her.

She screamed and went down to one knee as he swung to bring his blade down on her. She crossed her arms and held firm as he hit the vambraces, trying to use the full force of his bodyweight to overpower her. Her defense failed, and he kicked her down, pinning her down to the stairs with a foot to her throat. She grasped his leg and attempted to push him off, but it was no use. He raised his katana ready to kill her, then _BANG!_

Tony could hardly believe himself. He had shot the man. He had actually managed to raise the gun and shoot the man. He didn't even remember making the conscious decision to raise the gun. It was just suddenly there, aimed at the crazy man with the sword. He thought he would just injure him, get him in the shoulder or something, anything that would get him off of her. But he didn't injure the man. No, he had killed the man. A clean headshot. Tony didn't think he had that good of aim. It had to be a mistake, just a jerk of the gun that made him shoot too high and hit the man. Well, he had been right about one thing. He couldn't shoot the gun to save his own life. But he had managed to do it to save her.

That was it. That was all he could take. He put his head over the railing and puked. He had seen more blood and death than he ever wanted to, and now he had killed a man. Regardless of whether it had been defensive or not, a man was dead because of him.

"Stark, get down here!" JC cried, pain and desperation in her voice. Tony composed himself as best he could and rushed to her side, but his body was still trembling. "I need you to put pressure on it now!" she ordered, her hands covering her leg. She had been bleeding before, but this was worse now. He did as told without hesitation this time. What was a little more blood on his hands now?

"I need your belt. Hold still," she said as she started pulling it off his waist. After getting it unbuckled she wrapped it around her leg just about the wound and tied it off. "Take your jacket off, rip off one of the sleeves," she said as she moved her hands over her leg to put pressure on the wound again. He ripped off the sleeve and placed it over the wound where her shirt had been but was now cut up. "Now take off your tie, tie it around the wound," she instructed. He did so. She groaned as he tied it off, but she said not to worry about it, that she would be fine.

"Are you gonna make it?" he asked worriedly. There was so much blood, but he couldn't tell which was hers and which belonged to the terrorists. It wasn't looking good.

"As long I don't get shot or stabbed anymore, I'll be fine," she said and tried to pull herself up. She groaned and winced and gave it up. He couldn't blame her. There was no way she was going to get down ten more floors in her current condition.

"You're in no shape to go down one more flight of stairs, let alone ten stories worth."

"We don't have any other options. Help me up. We've gotta keep moving," she ordered and started pulling herself up again. He grabbed her by her good arm and helped her to a standing position. She was unsteady and tried to use the railing for balance, but it did little good. She was in horrible shape and getting worse, and it was mostly his fault.

"If you try walking any further on that leg, you're going to make it bleed even worse. We don't have a choice. I'm gonna have to carry you down," he said.

"There's no way in Hell I'm letting you do that," she refused.

"I don't know what your problem with me is, but we don't have a lot of options here. I can't go alone, and you can't keep up without practically killing yourself. Unless you've got a better idea, I'm carrying your crippled ass down the stairs. Got it?" he insisted.

She looked at him defiantly before cursing him and let him pick her up. Ten stories went by faster than he thought they could. Now he was glad he stayed in good shape. This wasn't the situation he had in mind when he thought he would really need his strength, but he was glad to have it all the same.

"Is that makeup?" JC asked at some point.

"What?" he asked, not sure where that had come from.

"On your forehead," she clarified. "It looks like concealer."

"I told you I injured myself last night. I fell and hit my head. What? You didn't believe me?" he said tersely.

"Yeah, you hit your head," she agreed. "With my forehead," she muttered under her breath.

"Excuse me?" he said, stopping around level 5. "You head-butted me? Did you have something to do with the bruises on my chest, too?" he asked, hoping she would finally give him the answers he had wanted before.

She scoffed at him. "I probably did, and I had a damn good reason to, after what you did. You don't even remember last night, do you?" she challenged.

He had to admit that he didn't, but he was getting a clearer picture now. That hadn't been a dream after all. He really had tried to seduce her last night. Judging by the fact all of his limbs were still intact, she had been merciful to him. He couldn't even answer her with a yes or no, because he did remember some parts, but trying to tell the difference between what was real and what was a drunken delusion he didn't know. He stayed silent.

"That's what I thought," she sneered. "Hurry up. We're running out of time."

With that he continued down the stairs again, disturbed by this revelation. He had considered the possibility that it had been true, but hearing it from JC seemed to make it more real. And it made him feel even worse about the situation at hand. His list of grievances against her was just piling up.

When they made it to the door with a white symbol for 'lobby' painted on the side she made him stop and put her down. He would have preferred until they made down the lobby stairs, but there were probably still men waiting, which wasn't making a lot of sense to him. Based on the numbers JC had told him were in the building and the approximate number of bodies he had counted, they had been fighting every man. But how would they know which staircase they would use? Even if they weren't after Takeshi, wouldn't they have been thorough and sent men up each staircase? Something wasn't adding up. A traitor maybe? It made sense, but who could it be? Maybe there wasn't one. She obviously had eyes all over the building, or she wouldn't have known their numbers. Maybe they had men watching the building as well and didn't care about Takeshi. One thing he was sure of: if all the men had come after them, Takeshi should have already made it to the lobby by now. That would mean either all the bad guys were dead, or JC's man was dead and Takeshi was a prisoner or dead as well. None of it was boding well for them.

JC drew her weapon and cautiously stepped out to the lobby. It was painful work, but she managed to stay on two feet. He followed cautiously behind until the stairs were in his sights, but what was at the bottom was not a welcome sight. There were half a dozen men with weapons at the ready, and Takeshi was their prisoner. He was on his knees, a man dressed in a suit standing over him with a pistol to his temple. This man had to be the leader since he was the only one in a suit and had a very smug grin on his face. Grunts didn't usually smile like that.

"Wilcox, it's about time. And you brought Mr. Stark with you. Very good," he congratulated her as if they were old pals. Judging by the lack of recognition on her face she had never met the man before, and was thoroughly pissed off. Tony definitely didn't want to be in that guy's shoes when JC got her hands on him. "I was hoping to just kill you, Stark, and then Takeshi would finally hand over the company to me. Unfortunately, the papers have made it official that you are the boss. Sadly, that means Takeshi here is no longer useful to me," he said and jammed the muzzle against Takeshi's head.

"Leave him alone," JC ordered. "He's no use to you dead. You're only going to make it worse on yourself when the police come. Release him. We're the ones you want."

Takeshi looked up at them with pleading eyes. Tony wanted to save him, but that didn't look like a viable option. This man was probably sick enough to not care one way or the other.

"You are right," the man mused as he stared down at Takeshi. He then looked up at them and said, "You are the ones that I want." With that he shot Takeshi.

"No!" Tony yelled and tried to go to him. JC put a hand on his chest to keep him back. "You sick son of a bitch!"

"You were warned not to come, Mr. Stark. You should have heeded it. Takeshi would probably still be alive, if you had," he taunted. "Now, Wilcox, I'm feeling generous today. Let me have Stark, and I will let you walk out of here alive. This is, if you can. You're not looking so good."

Tony looked to JC, her gaze fixed on the bastard. She didn't budge an inch. "You can kiss my ass," she threw back at him. "And Brax," she said to one of the other men down there that Tony barely recognized from Takeshi's staff, "I will kill you for this." So, there was a traitor.

The man gave a defeated sigh before saying, "Moji, please send Ms. Wilcox to see me."

Tony watched but saw none of the men move toward her. It was a moment too late that Tony realized he had said 'send' not 'bring'. He turned to see a man who was easily over six feet high and built like a tank just before being knocked aside. JC turned but didn't get a shot off. He knocked the gun from her hands before wrapping one massive hand around her throat and lifted her off the ground. Tony dumbly tried to come to her rescue by trying to body slam the human tank, but he was easily deflected when the man reached out and deftly wrapped his other hand around his throat.

"Try not to injure Mr. Stark, Moji," the leader said disinterestedly. "Last chance, Wilcox. Give up or die."

She looked down at him defiantly and released the grip she had on the man's forearm with one hand. Tony had hoped that she would go for a knife, a gun, something that might help her. Instead, she flipped off the leader.

"And here I thought you were smart. My mistake. Send her down," the man ordered.

Moji smiled wickedly before tossing JC toward the stairs. Tony could only watch in horror as she tumbled and rolled down those massive stone stairs before come to stop at the bottom, her limbs a tangled mess.

"JC!" Tony yelled, but it was useless. She wasn't moving. She didn't respond. And even if she was alive, she would probably just be shot. Or maybe the sick bastard would just let her bleed to death.

The leader stepped forward and used his foot to angle her face upward to look at her. "You really were pathetic. You should have stayed in your place, beneath a man. That is a woman's only good purpose in this world. It's almost a pity you had to die. I'm sure I could have found another good use for you," he said sadistically. Tony just wanted to rip his heart out, if he even had one. "Now, Mr. Stark, our ride is waiting on the roof. We mustn't be tardy," he said as he approached him. "I'd prefer not to hurt you, Stark. Please, come willingly. I do insist."

Tony looked at him defiantly but he did not resist as he was herded toward the elevator. What good would it do? There was no one to save him now. What was the point in fighting the inevitable now? As the elevator doors began to close he looked one last time at JC's prone form and thought, _Dear God, why her?_

* * *

**AN: THis one is quickly coming to an end, only three chapters left. After that I should be ready to start posting my Avengers story. Don't forget to leave me a review :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Wilcox! Wilcox!"

The voice sounded distant as JC slowly found her way back to consciousness. Her entire body ached with agonizing pain. Whatever relief the anesthetic had provided before, and was supposed to still be giving, was long gone now. She opened her eyes weakly to see Kiba, one of the front desk people, standing over her.

"Kiba," she said wearily as she tried to move. Every bone and muscle protested, but she forced it aside. She had to get up, had to move if for no other reason than to see if she could. In that split second before she had hit the stairs she knew the high probability that she would crack her skull, break her neck, or have some other lethal injury inflicted on her. Well, she wasn't dead. That left having some other bone broken. "Help me up."

The young man helped her to a sitting position which felt more like a cruel punishment to her body. As far as she could feel, everything was still working properly. The ribs on her right side hurt more than the left, but they didn't feel broken. She was sure they were probably cracked, bruised at the very least. But that was the least of her worries. Her head was throbbing and felt like someone had bashed it with a hammer. She didn't feel any blood which meant no open wound, but she knew better than that. Just because it didn't feel wrong, didn't mean there wasn't something wrong. There was just no sure fire way to tell with a head injury.

"Where did they go, Kiba?" she finally asked when her mental assessment was complete.

"They took him to the roof. I tried to jam the elevators but it wouldn't work. The best I could do was make them stop on every floor. It won't be long before they figure it out and do something about it. I've also called the police and paramedics. They'll be here any minute," he said.

"Good work, Kiba," she said. "Now, help me up. I've gotta take the emergency elevator up. Once you see it's up, unjam the other elevators and get to a safe spot. Understand?"

"You can't be thinking of going after them. You're in no condition. They'll kill you," he protested but helped her to her feet anyway.

"And they'll kill Stark, if I don't stop them," she retorted. Much as she still hated him, she still had a reputation to uphold. And she wasn't about to let that son of a bitch Brax get away. No one betrayed her and lived to tell about it. No one. "Just do what I told you," she ordered and started limping toward the stairs. Every step was pure agony, but she made it up and reclaimed her gun. She had six rounds left and another clip with nine more. For sure that would take care of the eight men that had already gone up, but left nine more that were already on the roof, ten if she counted the pilot they had with them, but he wasn't a threat; he'd be too busy flying the helicopter. But that was only an assumption. For all she knew they didn't take a pilot but planned on using Takeshi's. She had no way of knowing since she had lost all contact with her men around the same time her shotgun got jammed. Another side effect of Brax's handiwork, no doubt. She still had two more knives left, which meant she had no room for error. Every shot had to count.

Only Takeshi, JC, and specific members of Takeshi's staff knew about the secret emergency elevator. Thankfully, Brax was not one of those members. Several key factors made it different from the other elevators in the building. First, it travelled faster than the other elevators. It was nothing too dangerous, but it was a significant difference. Second, there were two of them: one that went from the lobby to the roof and a second that went from seventeen to the roof, and both were on different sides of the building. Third, they only went in one direction: up. The only way they came back down was with an override code that only she and Takeshi knew. Finally, each shaft only had two doors: one on the floor it started and one on the roof.

JC put her hand on a panel of marble that was really a scanner hidden in plain sight. A light flashed from underneath before making a 'bing' that signaled she was authorized to enter. Another panel of faux marble slid aside and she stepped into the car. The doors shut behind her and she pulled out her phone. She had to hear his voice one last time, at the very least leave him a message, tell him she loved him. After two rings her mother answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mom, where's Darren?" she asked trying to hide as much of the pain in her voice that she could. It didn't do much good. A mother always knew when something was wrong.

"He's right here. What's going on? What's happened?" she asked in that worried motherly tone.

"I don't know if I'm gonna make it back this time, Mom," she said solemnly. "I don't have a lot of time, so I need you to listen and promise me something. If I don't make it, and I mean only _if_, I want you to tell Darren the truth about his father. Tell him I'm sorry, that I love him so much, and that I'm proud of him. Promise me, Mom."

"No, you're going to tell him yourself. You hear me? You tell him yourself," the older woman objected, her voice cracking.

"We all knew the risks of the job. I'm sorry, Mom. Please," she pleaded, "promise me you'll do this."

She could hear her mother breaking down in tears on the other end, and it tore her heart apart. This was the last thing she wanted. It should be her there with her son, telling him all the things she was supposed to, telling him that she was responsible for his father's death eight years ago. That was her job, and she was failing.

"Damn it, Jadvyga," her mother cursed through her tears. "I promise. I promise I'll do it."

Tears were beginning to roll down JC's cheeks as she said, "I love you, Mom. And I am so sorry for everything, for every disappointment I've caused you. If I make it out of this, I promise to be a better daughter for you."

"None of that matters, Jadvyga. You just come home. You hear me? You come home," her mother demanded.

"Gotta go, Mom. That's my floor," she said as the elevator opened up on the roof.

She dropped the phone and rushed out of the elevator using the element of surprise to take out the first two men with her knife. As she shot the next two that came at her she could see out the corner of her eye Takeshi's pilot dead on the ground. That meant five more targets, four more bullets. Two of the remaining men kept their distance and started opening fire. If her legs could scream that's what they would be doing as she started running to avoid their fire and took out two more men with her knives. A third man came at her, and she shot him through the heart as well as the other two who were firing at her. That left one bullet to spare. She turned it on the pilot in the helicopter, who so far had not pulled out a weapon. He must have figured his nine bodyguards would be able to protect him. As if.

She motioned for him to get out, but all he did was smile smugly at her. She followed his gaze which was looking at an opening elevator. Well, at least that meant Kiba had done as told and let them come up. The first clear shot she had was of that behemoth Moji. She gladly took it, sending the lead projectile straight through his brain. He fell to his knees which left the other passengers of the car in shock. The leader caught one glance of her and scowled as she smirked.

"Kill the bitch!" he ordered and dragged Stark aside.

She dodged their fire and quickly changed out her clips. Using what terrain she could she ducked under cover and gave them the few seconds it would take for them to exit the elevator. The next part would be easy. With no extra cover for them, it would be a killing spree. With one steadying breath she broke from her cover and started opening fire on the men. The cut-rate gunmen were no match. She knew where her marks were, and she hit them every time. One by one they fell until all that were left were Brax and the leader who was making his way to the helicopter. She rushed at Brax and knocked his gun from his hand before bring her knife up and stabbed him three times in the chest. That was the least that he deserved. If she had it her way, she would have tortured him slowly, letting him feel every amount of pain she could possible bring down on him. Then, she would just leave him to die a slow, agonizing death. That would have made her very happy. But there was no time for that. The bastard was already aboard the helicopter with Tony and trying to get away.

Wasting no more time she turned to the helicopter which was already taking off. Cursing she ran toward it as it got about a foot away from the building and jumped, praying that she wouldn't miss. She reached out and grabbed on to the first thing that she could inside the cabin. The leader didn't hesitate to grab Stark and put a gun to his temple.

"Back off, or I will kill him!" he threatened.

She had to think quickly. They were a minimum of 500 feet from the ground, so a wrong move would send any of them on a fall to their death. Maybe that was just what was called for. She turned her pistol on the pilot.

"You kill him, and we all go down. I doubt your plans work very well with you splattered on the ground as street pizza," she taunted.

"You won't do it," he challenged hesitantly. "You'll die, too."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm half dead already. I don't have a whole lot left to lose. You have everything to lose. It's your choice," she said more fervently.

The man looked indecisive as he stared from her to the pilot to Tony and back. She had to admit she had lied. She had everything to lose, if she died. Darren was everything to her. She didn't want to lose him by dying here, but she wasn't going to let a terrorist go free. That was out of the question.

In another instant she was going to make the decision for him, but Tony beat her to the punch. He took the opportunity afforded by the man's hesitation and rammed his elbow into the man's face. Before she could even think of trying to help the man he lost his balance and fell out of the helicopter with a blood curdling scream. It was now or never. She kept the gun on the pilot and ordered him to land back on the roof. Thankfully he was smarter than his cohorts and did as he was told.

Once on the roof again she ordered the pilot to shut it down and step out of the helicopter. He did so and stepped out with his hands over his head. She then ordered him to turn his back to her and get on his knees. She put the muzzle of the gun to the back of his head mostly to scare him. So far he hadn't tried to kill her, and he was defenseless. There was no point in killing him. In the next moment she hit him just hard enough to knock him out. At least the police would get to apprehend one culprit.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Tony asked.

"Why waste a good bullet?" she replied and started limping to the elevator. "Let's get outta here."

He followed behind her to the elevator and hit the button for the lobby. By now the paramedics should have arrived which meant she was going to be on the first gurney out of there. Not wanting anyone to try fiddling with her gear she started stripping off her vambraces and holsters. Kiba would know what to do with them while she was at the hospital. As she bent over to undo the holster on her thigh her injured leg started to quiver and give out. She stopped and had to brace herself with the railing before she could even think of finishing it.

"Do you want some help?" Stark offered.

"Don't touch me, Stark," she said with as much malice as she could manage, but it didn't sound very impressive to her.

"You're hurt, and you can't do it by yourself. Just let me help you," he said and started reaching for the buckle on the holster.

She didn't have a lot of strength left, but with what she did have she grabbed her last knife and held it to his throat as she slammed him to the wall. Even she was impressed by her display.

"I am just pissed enough to slit your throat without any hesitation and not care about the consequences," she growled. "Do. Not. Touch. Me. And if I ever have to see your ugly face again, I will kill you. Understood?"

He looked at her with a wide eyed glare before nodding. She accepted the answer and let him go. She felt no need to coddle him anymore. The danger was over, and she didn't really care if he had a mental breakdown right now. That would be the least the asshole deserved after what he had done. Part of her had wanted to let the terrorists get away with him, even kill him in that helicopter, but that stupid little voice in the back of her head said that she couldn't allow that. He was still her responsibility at that point. Well, he wasn't anymore, so if he decided to be stupid enough to try to see her again for any reason after today, it would be his own damn fault for anything that would happen to him. She reached down and unbuckled the holster just to prove him wrong. She didn't need any help, least of all his. Finally, she unzipped her vest and let it fall to the ground along with her last knife. She wouldn't be needing any of that at the hospital.

"I know this probably won't mean much to you, but thanks for saving me up there. I don't know how you did it, but I'm grateful," he said after a moment of silence.

"You're right. It doesn't mean a damn thing to me," she said as the elevator finally made it to the lobby and the doors opened. As she stepped out and greeted the sun that was shining through she had to squint and cover her eyes. All of a sudden everything seemed too bright for her. She didn't remember it being so bright just a few minutes ago.

She limped forward, but it was more exhausting now that all her adrenaline had worn off. Each step felt like trying to walk in concrete shoes. Why was everything so hard now? She knew she wouldn't feel as good after that last fight, but this was more intense than she had thought it would be. She reasoned that it had to be the blood loss. She couldn't even remember a time when she had been injured this badly before. Was this what it really felt like when you were dying slowly?

She made it to the stairs and she could just barely make out paramedics with a gurney standing by, but they were slowly becoming blurry figures as little black dots invaded the edges of her vision. Grabbing the railing for support she took the first painful step down. Where was Stark? Was he behind her? She didn't know, couldn't remember if he was beside her or behind her. She took one bleary eyed glance to her left and saw him as he started to walk past her, but the effort of that glance felt like more work than it should have.

Her head was throbbing now, and she was beginning to think that her little tumble down the stairs had done more damage than she had thought. She put one hand to her aching head as she took her next step down. She was feeling more dizzy and disoriented by the second, and her next step down proved to be more dangerous than the last several. She missed the step, over shooting it by about an inch and started to fall.

_Oh joy, one more trip down the stairs_, she thought vaguely as she fell, waiting for her body to smash down on the stone for the second time that day. But the hit never came. Something strong supported her, lifted her up in the air and started carrying her down. She thought it was about damn time the paramedics decided to come help her.

Her head began to swim as everything melted into a blur of color and light and sound. She was barely even aware of anything that was happening. There were voices, but she did not understand them. They were garbled together in some indiscernible mess of sound. She felt as she was laid down on something, and another something was put over her face. But none of that mattered. She didn't care anymore. The only thing she cared about was staying alive to see Darren one last time.

* * *

He had been so shocked to see her alive. He should have known better than to think that she wouldn't survive, but to see her on the roof before them was even more shocking. It must have been her behind the elevator glitch, which the terrorist leader was sure that he was behind it. He was talented enough to do it, but he had not been responsible for it. And her display up there had been nothing short of extraordinary.

He couldn't even begin to imagine the pain she was feeling now, but he was sure it had to be excruciating. When she tried to undo her thigh holster she had nearly toppled over. He had just wanted to help her. He assumed she was just being stubborn out of pride but that she would be grateful for the help. He was dead wrong.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me. And if I ever have to see your ugly face again, I will kill you. Understood?" she had threatened with a knife to his throat.

He looked in her eyes and knew that she was completely serious, but there was something wrong. There was something off about her eyes. It wasn't just that she was pissed off or in pain. He didn't know exactly what it was, but they didn't look right, didn't look normal. Was it her pupils? They were large enough that he would have thought that she was high on something, but he knew that couldn't be it.

He didn't say anything about it, just nodded at her and let her go back to taking off her gear. He didn't know what she was so pissed at him for. Sure, he had gotten her shot, and yes he had been an ass the night before for more reasons than one, but hadn't he just helped her not that long ago by taking out bullets, shooting a sword wielding maniac to save her life, bandage her wounds, and carry her down ten flights of stairs? He'd even managed to take out the leader, although having him fall out of the helicopter hadn't been part of that plan. Surely some of that had to make up for what he had done last night when he had run off, and for whatever else he had done. He didn't know what else to do, so he tried to offer one final peace offering.

"I know this probably won't mean much to you, but thanks for saving me up there. I don't know how you did it, but I'm grateful."

He had hoped to at least get a more sympathetic look from her, anything at all besides the scowl she now wore. But she didn't. She didn't even look at him when she said, "You're right. It doesn't mean a damn thing to me."

He stared disbelievingly at her as the elevator opened on the lobby and she started hobbling toward the stairs. He had considered offering to help her down, but after all that he decided against it. If she wanted to be foolish enough to try making it down on her own, fine by him. At least there were paramedics nearby to take her away.

He watched her as she made it to the stairs, each step seeming to come slower than the last. He could see the perspiration on her brow at the exertion, and her eyes looked weary. He walked slowly beside her as she took the stairs one at a time. As much as he wanted to let her fail at her endeavor, he didn't want to see her injured for a second time on these stairs. She was lucky she hadn't broken any bones, at least that he knew of, the first time. He didn't feel like watching her tempt Fate again.

She took the first two steps just fine. But as she went to take her third she put her hand to her head and was looking even worse. He stared at her as she tried to make her next step. The next instant her eyes were rolling to the back of her head and she missed the step. Without missing a beat Tony cursed and lunged for her, catching her before she hit the stairs.

"JC?" he said, trying to get her to look at him. Her body was limp and her gaze unfocused. This was not good. He immediately lifted her up and carried her down the stairs toward the paramedics. "She needs help!" he said urgently as he placed her on the gurney.

The men immediately went to work on her, checking her vitals and spouting off things in Japanese that Tony couldn't understand. After strapping an oxygen mask around her face they started to cart her out to the ambulance. Tony followed on their heels and hopped into the ambulance with them. If it hadn't been such an emergency they might have taken the time to kick him off, but there wasn't a second to spare. She needed a hospital now.

As they traveled down the road as fast as traffic could permit them, the paramedic started attaching leads to her chest and started an IV. He kept saying something to his partner in the driver seat, but Tony couldn't understand it, and he was hardly paying attention to it. He didn't need their babbling to know that she was hanging on by a thread. He had seen enough movies to know when too much blood had been lost. She was nearly there, if she wasn't already.

"JC, talk to me. I know you hate me, but please. Just let me know you're still alive," he pleaded with her.

Her eyes were barely slits as she just stared up at the roof. Afraid that she was slipping away he pleaded again for her to say something, anything. He didn't want her to die, not after everything she had done for him. He watched her closely as her lips started to move, and she whispered something. He leaned in closer and could make out that she was saying a name.

"Darren"

"No, JC, it's me. It's Tony," he corrected. But she just kept whispering the name over and over. Who was this Darren person? A boyfriend? Fiancé? He had no clue. She had never said anything about any family she had. What reason would she have had to tell him anything of that nature? He was essentially a stranger to her. No one just told anybody about their family or personal life.

"Can't you go any faster?" Tony demanded of the driver. He spouted off something in Japanese. Of course he would get stuck with two paramedics who either didn't understand English or couldn't speak it. Probably both.

"JC, stay with me. We're almost there," he said more to try soothing himself than her. He wasn't even sure she could really understand what he was saying. She gave no response, no reaction that would indicate otherwise. "Come on, JC, say something," he pleaded and grabbed her hand. He wasn't sure where the urge had come from; probably too many movies. Her hand was unnaturally cold. As if he wasn't panicking enough already, this just added to it. How much longer before it would be too late to save her? He resisted the urge to yell at the driver again as he stole a glance up front. The sight of the hospital almost made him cry for joy.

They pulled up to the emergency entrance and they started unloading her from the ambulance and raced her inside. Tony followed right behind, listening as they spouted off information to the nurses that were running her down the hall. He wanted to go further, but some little woman stood in his way gibbering on about something, probably about how he wasn't allowed any further.

"Is she going to be okay?" he asked as he watched them wheel her into what he could only assume was the ER. He didn't really expect an answer since thus far no one else had.

"Doctor will do what he can," the little woman answered. Well, that was a welcome surprise. "Are you injured?" she asked as she stared him up and down.

He thought that was an odd question. He didn't think he looked like he had been injured. That was until he actually looked at himself. His shirt was covered with JC's blood from when he had been carrying her as were his hands from bandaging her wounds. In all the excitement he hadn't even considered looking at himself to see what a mess he was.

"No, it's not my blood. I'm fine," he responded absently.

"Kari will help you. Kari," the little woman called to another nurse, a younger, taller woman. The little woman then walked off to go do whatever it was she was supposed to be doing.

"Come with me, sir. I will get you some clean clothes and take you to the waiting room," Kari said in near perfect English. At least that meant some of the staff could communicate with him. He let her lead him to a dressing area where she gave him a pair of blue scrubs to wear and put his soiled clothes in a white plastic bag for him. She then led him to the small, empty waiting area and left him there. When he was finally alone, he took out his phone and called Pepper.

"What is it, Tony? I'm trying to head out," she answered tersely.

"Whatever your plans are, I need you to cancel them. There's something I need you to do, and it can't wait."

"Last time you said that you made me fly in half of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow. Tonight's my birthday," she said defiantly. Any other day he might have found that to be cute. This wasn't any other day.

"I know I've asked for some stupid stuff before, but this really needs to get done, Pep," he said more seriously, trying to keep his agitation down.

"It's going to have to wait, Tony. You're not ruining my birthday again," she said adamantly.

"A woman is dying, Pepper!" he exclaimed, nearly shouting into the phone. There was silence for several seconds as Tony took several deep breaths to try composing himself. "Please," he said softly, "I need you to do this for me now."

"What do you need me to do?" she asked more sympathetically.

"I need you to find her family, get in touch with them. Tell them she's been hurt. Tell them they need to be on the next flight to Tokyo at my expense. I don't care if you have to charter a private plane to do it. Get them in the air within the hour, if you can."

"Okay, Tony. What's her name?"

"It's JC Wilcox, but it's not her first name. It's her initials. J and C, got it?" he clarified. There was no time for mistakes.

"I got it, Tony. Is there anything else?"

"She kept saying Darren on the way to the hospital. I don't know if he's a family member or boyfriend or what, but use it to cross check, if you can. I need you to get this done fast, okay?"

"I'll get it done, Tony. Don't worry. I'll call you as soon as I talk to them. It's going to be okay," she said as if trying to soothe him before hanging up the phone.

He wanted to believe her. More than anything he wanted JC to be all right and walk out of here. He just wasn't sure. He hadn't heard of anyone suffering these kinds of injuries with that amount of blood loss and surviving, at least not for very long. She had already proven that she wouldn't go down without a fight. He only hoped that she would be so resilient now.

Pepper called him back about an hour and a half later saying that she could only get a hold of the mother and that she was on her way to the airport right then. This brought him little relief. For all he knew he was calling in the poor woman just to tell her that her daughter had already died. That was the last thing he wanted.

"Tony, there's one other thing you should know," she said hesitantly.

"What is it, Miss Potts?"

"I checked that other name that you gave me. Darren is her son, Tony. He's her fifteen year old son," she said.

Tony's heart sank even deeper. It was one thing to tell her mother that she would possibly outlive her daughter. It was another to try telling a fifteen year old boy. Tony remembered he had been just about that age when both of his parents were ripped from his life. To this day, that was still the worst moment in his life.

"Does he know yet?" he asked trying to hold his composure.

"I don't know. I only spoke with his grandmother. I assume she'll tell him. I offered to send him with her, but she refused."

"Thank you, that will be all, Miss Potts," he said and hung up the phone. This day just couldn't get any worse.

It was still several more hours after Pepper's call before a doctor finally came out to talk to him.

"Mr. Stark," the man greeted him, "I'm Dr. Kurosawa."

"How is she doing?"

"We have her stabilized and started blood transfusions. I won't lie to you, Mr. Stark. Your friend is in very bad shape. We're still trying to make a full assessment of her injuries to be sure nothing has been overlooked. Is there anything you can tell me about the attack? How she sustained her injuries? Even if it seems unimportant, I need every detail you can remember," the doctor inquired.

Tony let out a breath as he tried to recall every detail about the attack. "Let me see. Her right arm was grazed. Um, she was shot in her right leg, but that one came out. There was another shot to her left shoulder, but I took that one out."

"You took it out?" the doctor interrupted with a slightly shocked tone.

"It wasn't exactly my choice. She threatened to shoot me in the foot, if I didn't take out," he clarified.

"I see. That sounds about right for her," he said with a wistful smirk.

"You've met her before?"

"Several times. Injuries in her line of work are not uncommon. She's been in here before for other injuries, but never anything like this," he explained. "What else?"

"Uh, after that there was the crazy katana guy. He cut her a few times, mostly flesh wounds. There was one to the leg where she was shot. That was the worst of it. Let me see. Well, then there were the stairs from Hell."

"What do you mean?"

"She was thrown down a flight of stairs by the human Godzilla. I thought she was dead after that, but she wasn't. She ended up on the roof of the building. I don't think there was anything else, Doc," he said.

"Go back to the part about the stairs. Did she look like she was in any extra pain from it? Did she complain about any broken bones?"

"No, not that I can remember. I mean, she was limping because her leg had been shot and cut up, but I didn't notice anything extra. I don't really think you go running around a rooftop fighting terrorists and jumping onto helicopters when you have broken bones, Doc. Do you?"

"You'd be surprised what I've seen, Mr. Stark. Adrenaline can be a potent anesthetic, but it wears off. Do you know if she hit her head or not? Was she acting out of the ordinary at all?" he asked.

"I don't know. Um," Tony said as he raked his fingers through his hair to try to remember anything that would be helpful. There was the part where she had threatened to kill him, but that was hardly out of the ordinary for her. Then he remembered her eyes. "I don't know if it's relevant or not, but when we were heading back down to the lobby, her eyes looked weird. Her pupils were huge like she was on drugs or something. I don't know if that's a normal adrenaline thing or not, but it was weird. Oh, right. Um, she put her hand to her head, you know, like she was having a headache or something."

"I see," the doctor mused. "Well, we'll need to run a full body scan to check for any broken bones. Like I said, she might not have complained about it, but they could still be there. We'll also need to do a scan of her brain, make sure there's nothing wrong there either, but that will take some time. We've had a lot of head cases today."

"Do you think it could be that bad?" Tony asked.

"It's difficult to say for sure. Head injuries are one of the more difficult treat since they can look serious and be nothing to worry about, or they can seem benign but cause the most harm. I'll know more after the scan."

"Can I see her?"

The doctor contemplated his request for a moment before answering, "She's still unconscious, but I can let you see her for a few minutes. Come with me."

Tony followed him down the hall trying to memorize the way since trying to look at the signage would do him little good.

"Do you know if her family has been contacted yet?" the doctor asked as they walked.

"Her mother is on a plane right now," he replied.

"I hope she makes it in time," the doctor said dismally.

"What do you mean?"

"She is in critical condition. The next twenty four hours are the most crucial. She can easily go either way at this point. I know how long a flight from America to Tokyo can take. I hope her mother can make it in time, in case she has to say good bye," he said solemnly as they stood outside her door.

"She's going to pull through. You'll see," Tony said indignantly as he stepped past the doctor and entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

She had several IVs hooked to her arms and a breathing apparatus in her mouth. He had seen scenes like this a thousand times in movies and on TV, but seeing her in that bed hooked up like that made it more real for him and almost made him wish he hadn't come to see her. This wasn't the memory he wanted to have of her, if she did die.

"Hey, JC," he said not really expecting a response. "You probably can't hear me, and I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but I wanted you to know that I found your mom. She's on her way right now." He paused for a moment to choose his next words. She might not have been able to hear him, but he could, and right now was the only moment where he didn't want to sound like an ass. "I also found your son, Darren. I never would have guessed that you were a mother. Listen, I don't want you to die. I don't want you to die, because you have a son that needs you. I know what it's like to lose a parent, and that is a kind of hell that I wouldn't wish on anyone. So, please, if for no other reason, live for your son, because…because he needs you more than anyone else in the world, even if he doesn't act like it because he may be acting like a stupid teenager right now."

"Mr. Stark, it's time," the doctor said gently.

"I'm coming." Tony took a final moment before saying good bye and left the room. "If it's all right, I'd like to be kept informed about her condition until her mother arrives. I'm the only friend she has here right now."

"We will do everything we can, Mr. Stark. Go back to your hotel and try to get some rest. You've had quite the ordeal today," the doctor said and went on his way.

Tony did just that. He was exhausted physically and mentally and wanted nothing more than to lie down if only to get off his feet. He called one of Takeshi's secretaries who was able to have a car sent for him along with his luggage. He didn't bother asking the poor man to make any other arrangements since everyone was still frazzled from the day's excitement. Once back at the hotel he went to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water, feeling like he was living some nightmare and would wake up from it. Nothing changed. Nothing went away. This was real, and it had all happened because of him.

He had been the one to go to Japan. He had been the one who couldn't do what he was told. If he had just done what she had said, she wouldn't have gotten shot. If she hadn't been shot, she might have been able to take out the katana guy without getting injured so badly. If she hadn't been injured so badly, she might have been able to fend off Godzilla the tank and not have been thrown down the stairs. If she hadn't been thrown down the stairs, she wouldn't have had to chase him to the roof and cause herself to lose more blood faster. If he had just stayed where he was supposed to, none of this would have happened, and she wouldn't be fighting for her life. This whole mess was his fault. Her life, Takeshi's, and the lives of the other two men he had killed today would forever be on his hands.

He looked down at his hands and saw that they were shaking involuntarily. He balled them into fists to try to steady them, but it was no use. His breathing became short and ragged as the weight of his guilt began to crush him. He couldn't take it, couldn't bear himself anymore at the moment. He strode from the bathroom to the mini bar and gulped down the first three little bottles that were in there. He didn't care what they were. He just wanted to take some of the edge off. He knew he would need more, but this was a start.

With the alcohol starting to work on his system he went to the bed to lay down. He knew he needed rest like the doctor had said, but sleep was not easy to come by. How did that saying go? No sleep for the wicked? He wasn't sure, but that sounded about right. He didn't know how long he had been lying there when his cell phone began to buzz. With a groan he leaned over and answered it.

"Mr. Stark, this is Doctor Kurosawa."

"What is it, Doc?" Tony answered drowsily.

"I'm sorry to have to say this, Mr. Stark, but it's about Ms. Wilcox. I'm afraid something terrible has happened. Your friend has fallen into a coma."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tony nearly dropped the phone when he heard those words. He could almost swear his heart skipped a beat at that dreadful news.

"What?" he finally said after what felt like a lifetime of hesitation.

"I went in to check on her just a few minutes ago to confirm it. She is in a coma. We were able to do some scans of her brain. The results are not good. There is significant trauma to her brain and it is causing swelling."

"So what are you going to do about it?" he demanded.

"To be frank, in most cases like this we would have induced a coma anyways to help protect her brain and give it the time it needed to heal."

"I'm not quite understanding you, Doctor. You just made it sound like a bad thing when you just said you would have induced one anyways to save her. Help me out here, Doc. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

"If we had induced the coma, her chances of coming out of it would have been increased. In her case, we don't know if she'll ever regain consciousness. She is in a very deep coma, Mr. Stark. She is showing little to no responsiveness to external stimuli. On our scale, I would say she has a grade 5, possibly 4, out of 15. At grade 3, she's dead. This could be a sign that we will lose her," he explained.

Tony took in a sharp breath and had to set the phone down before he gave in to his urge to throw it across the room or break it. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't die, not like this. The way the doctor was making it sound was that if she did survive her other injuries, she was probably going to be a vegetable for the rest of her life. That wasn't living. Even he would rather be dead than be a vegetable.

"Listen to me, Doc," Tony said when he finally picked up the phone again. "I don't care what you have to do or who you have to call, but you are going to do everything possible to make sure she comes out of this. Get creative, if you have to. She can't die. Do you hear me? She cannot die, not like this."

"I understand you are upset, Mr. Stark. The fact is, there is little more that we can do at this point. Whatever god you believe in, Mr. Stark, I would suggest you start praying to him, because it will take nothing short of a miracle at this point. I'm sorry."

Tony hung up after that. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. There had to be more that could be done. There had to be some sort of specialist that could do something to help her. But what if Kurosawa was right? What if there really was nothing more that could be done? He didn't want to accept that, but even he knew that sometimes you just couldn't fix something. There was such a thing as being broken beyond repair. He had done this. He had broken her, and now he couldn't even do anything to help fix her. One stupid mistake was now going to cost JC her life.

Fearing that he might do something stupid Tony headed back to the hospital. He didn't trust himself to be alone right now. At least if he tried to hurt himself he wouldn't be too far from medical help. They wouldn't let him go back to her room; visiting hours were over. So Tony settled for staying in the waiting room until they would let him back to see her. The biggest reason he had come back was the thought of her dying alone. It was always one of his greatest fears, dying alone. If this was going to be her last night, he didn't want her to be alone, even if she did hate his guts.

One of the nurse's had offered to let him sleep on one of the cots that they kept available for family members. He wasn't family, but she said that it would be all right since there was no one else using it. He politely refused it and said he would rather wait in the waiting room until he could see her. Sleep was the farthest thing from his mind right now. He was still trying to think of a way to break it to her mother when she finally arrived. There was just no gentle way of telling anyone, especially a parent, that their loved one, their child, was going to die, and if they didn't die, they would be left in a coma for what was left of their life.

The next morning the nurse came and told him he was allowed to finally go to JC's room. He didn't need any further encouraging as he strode to her room and took a seat in the corner of the room. He hadn't planned anything much further than getting to her room, and now that he was there, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. This was the part in all the movies where the loved one was supposed to start talking to the comatose patient, either conversing with them or reading some random book that was supposed to have some sort of significance to the plot. Tony didn't have some book that would have some sort of special meaning. Hell, he didn't even know why he cared so much about what happened to her. Sure, she had saved his life, but she had been nothing but abrasive to him the rest of the time he had known her. That was even before the night of the party. This wasn't his responsibility, to sit there in a hospital room with a woman he barely knew and watch her die, and he knew it. He knew he should have been on a plane back to California a long time ago. But there was that little voice, that terrible feeling that leaving her alone would be a greater crime than staying with her, even if she hated him, and rightly so.

"Hey, JC, it's me. It's Tony," he began hesitantly. "I don't know if you can hear me or anything. They say that talking to people helps them find their way back…or something like that. It's a bit farfetched for me. You don't respond to any other 'external stimuli,' as they put it. Why would talking do any good, right?"

There was no change. He knew he shouldn't have expected anything. It made him feel foolish when he looked to her for some sort of response. As if she was supposed to magically wake up at the sound of his voice.

"I guess I'll just spit it out now. At least this way I know you'll be listening and not bite my head off in return," he said more confidently. "I don't really know what happened the other night. I know you beat me up pretty good, and I know you wouldn't have done it without a good reason. Well, actually you probably might just do it because it's fun. You seem to enjoy torturing me." A smirk crossed his lips. It was annoying as hell the way she had treated him, but looking back on it, it didn't seem quite as bad as it had before. It was almost refreshing to have someone who didn't go head-over-heels and start squealing at the very mention of his name.

"Listen, I don't know what happened, but whatever it was, I'm sorry. I guess. You saved my life, and I'm sure you could have thought of a few reasons not to do it. You hate me, but you saved me anyways. For that I'm in your debt. I promise I'll do whatever I can to get you out of this. And if you never come out of it…well…" He started to trail off as he tried to think of what he could say. It was a bleak thought that he didn't even like to consider. "I know the situation your son is in now. Well, sort of. When my parents died, I didn't have a chance to say goodbye. They were just gone. I know what the loss of a parent does to a person at his age. You have to pull through this. Your son needs you. Please, just wake up."

Quiet settled over the room again as he just sat there staring at her. She was so peaceful he would have sworn she was just sleeping, that she would wake up at any second and start yelling him or try to find something to kill him with. She had threatened to kill him if she ever saw him again, after all.

Tony sat in the room for several hours just talking to her about anything that came to mind. Most of it was work related stuff that he was sure would go right over her head, if she was actually participating in the conversation. He spouted off ideas the way he would with JARVIS back at home. While she couldn't give him the kind of feedback that JARVIS could it was still an effective method of problem solving. Work eventually digressed to more personal subjects, mostly about Pepper.

"You'd like Pepper. She's one of those no-nonsense types, sharp wit, not afraid to just dive in and get things done. She even kicks my ass into doing things, usually boring stuff like meetings, fundraisers, accepting stupid awards that are just going to gather dust somewhere. She's a bit nag-ish about it too, always getting on my case for one reason or another. It's almost cute, actually, the way her nostrils flare, the little crease in her brow when everything's not quite perfect. I know everyone thinks I just hired her for…oh how did she put it…chauvinistic reasons, that's right. I'll admit, about 90% of the reason I chose her was for her looks. I've got to be seen in public with her all the time, so I needed someone that wasn't totally unattractive. But the other 10% was because I knew she was special, that she could do the job better than anyone else. I don't accept mediocrity, and she is far from mediocre," he mused.

He stared down at his watch and saw that it was nearly three in the afternoon. By his calculations her mother should have already arrived. That was only if there were no delays in her flight and traffic was moving at any decent rate. Deciding he needed a coffee break he left the room and made his way toward the cafeteria.

As he strode by the Admitting desk thinking that this would be interesting if there was no one there that spoke good English he couldn't help but notice a woman who was at least in her 60s having her own communication problems with the clerks.

"The last name is Wilcox, W-i-l-c-o-x. Can't one of you tell me where she is?" the woman asked in an exasperated tone. She had obviously had the unfortunate luck of getting the non-English speaking clerks.

"Sorry, couldn't help but over hear that name. Are you JC's mother?" he asked the woman.

She turned around with a look of relief. "Oh, thank God, someone here can speak English. Are you Mr. Stark?"

Keeping his wounded pride in check he answered, "Yes, ma'am. I'll take you to see her," and led her back to JC's room.

Tony couldn't help but notice how exhausted the poor woman looked. He imagined it had to be from worrying over her child. He was almost thankful he would never have to know what that felt like. It was one thing to worry about whether or not a stranger died. Worrying about whether a loved one was going to die, a child or parent, was something else. There was more emotional investment with a direct family member, took a greater toll on a person. When Tony had heard about his parents's death, he hadn't been given a chance to worry whether they lived or not. They never even made it to the hospital. He couldn't even begin to truly fathom what this woman was feeling now.

"How is she?" she asked as they neared her door.

"The doctor said the first 24 hours are the most crucial. So far her vitals have been getting stronger, so he's confident that she'll recover from her injuries," he said, still trying to think of the right way to break the rest of the news.

"That's good," she said hopefully. "When she called me she made it sound like she wouldn't survive to the hospital. How bad was it? Truly?" she asked, stopping just outside her door.

"It was bad," he said solemnly. "She lost a lot of blood before they got her here. I have to be honest with you. It could still go the other way."

She gave him a small smile and said, "I know that. But you don't know my daughter very well, Mr. Stark. It won't go the other way. Not if she has anything to say about it." She then walked into the room with Tony right behind her. She stifled a small gasp as she stood by the foot of the hospital bed and just stared at her daughter. He watched as she swiped away several tears before taking a seat at her daughter's side. "Do they have her sedated?"

"I don't think so. They gave her some pain meds, but no sedatives that I know of," he replied, thinking it an odd question to ask.

"What is it you're not telling me, Mr. Stark?" she asked gravely. Tony was so taken aback by her question that he could only stare in disbelief at the woman. "I know my child. I've watched her sleep for the better part of thirty years, and she has never been this still. What is wrong with my daughter?"

Tony took a steeling breath before speaking. "She fell down a flight of stairs. She hit her head pretty hard. The doctor says there's swelling in her brain and that she's in a coma."

"They induced her then?"

"No, they didn't. Sometime after she came out of the ER the doctor came to check on her and found her in a coma. He said that her coma was a grade 5. They don't know when she'll wake up."

"You mean 'if' she wakes up," she corrected. "I appreciate the effort to spare an old woman pain, but don't try. I'm a mother. We have ways of knowing things. And I know what a grade 5 coma means. It won't take much for her to go down to a 3, and then she'll be dead."

Tony looked at her with surprise again. Sure, mothers were supposed to know strange things like when their kid was lying or when they were sick or other strange motherly intuition things, but this was a little beyond motherly intuition. She seemed to notice the look on his face and gave him another one of those small smiles.

"My daughter has always had a knack for injuring herself since she was a little girl: broken bones, scrapes, cuts, concussions. You name it, she did it. I've had to learn a lot over the years. There's plenty I wish I didn't know, Mr. Stark. This is one of them," she said and turned her gaze back to her daughter.

"I don't mean to pry, but I was told she has a teenage son and that you refused to bring him along. Why is that?" he finally asked.

"He doesn't have a passport. He wouldn't have been able to come with me even if I wanted him to. And I don't want him to see her like this. His last memory of her shouldn't be in this hospital with all these tubes."

He paused for a moment debating whether or not to continue with his train of thought before making his decision. "If it's just a matter of a passport, I can get him in here to see her. I have a few friends in high places that can make that happen. If it's a matter of not wanting him to see her like this, I respectfully disagree with you. When I lost my parents the one thing I wished I could have had was the chance to say goodbye. Her son still has that chance, and I can tell you from personal experience that he would much rather be here with her than sitting at home wishing that he could be here, wishing he'd had that chance to say goodbye when he could."

She sat there in silence contemplating his words. He thought that she might reconsider, but she didn't. "You are not a parent, Mr. Stark. I have to do what is best for the boy now, and forcing him to watch her wither and die here is not what is best for him. Thank you for the thought, though. It's very kind of you."

Her thanks felt more like a slap to the face. Judging just by her age he would have assumed that she understood the feeling of loss of a loved one. Her parents were surely gone by now. If they weren't, that would be rather amazing, but it was probably unlikely that they were. Surely she would understand that need for closure. Why deny her grandson that closure? Tony just couldn't understand it, and being a parent had nothing to do with it. That much he knew for sure.

"I'll leave you two alone then," he said and turned to leave.

"If she wakes up, I'll be sure to tell her what you did for her, staying by her side like this. You didn't have to do it, but you did. I'm sure it will mean a lot."

Tony scoffed, "No offense, but when she wakes up, that's going to be the last thing that she'll want to hear. We're not exactly friends. Quite frankly, she hates me and wants absolutely nothing to do with me."

She let out a small laugh. "That means she secretly likes you, Mr. Stark."

"I highly doubt that. She threatened to kill me several times. That doesn't exactly scream 'I like you' at all."

"She did the same thing with her husband, you know?" she said reflectively. "It was the same thing with several of her friends. It was her way of being sure they were worth anything. I remember the day she came home and said that she hated her husband, who she had just started dating at the time. She was so angry at him for one reason or another all the time, but I knew what it all secretly meant, even if she didn't realize it yet. She fights people, pushes them away just to see if they'll fight to stay." She then turned her gaze on him. "She does like you in some way, Mr. Stark. I know it. In time, you would have seen it, too. You might have made good friends one day."

"Well, if that day ever comes, I'd gladly welcome it," he said, not wanting to burst the woman's bubble of happiness. He knew that JC held nothing but pure hatred for him, and she had a decent reason. He had tried to seduce her, and she didn't take very kindly to it. "I should be going now. My assistant may cause physical harm, if I don't get home to face the Press, get back to work and all. If you need anything, just give me a call."

She nodded gratefully and let him leave. He made sure to leave instructions with the doctor that all of her medical expense would be taken care of by Stark Industries. It was the very least he could do for her. Somehow, there was just no way to truly thank a person for laying down their life to save your own.

When Tony arrived back in California Pepper was a bit of a mess. She kept herself reasonably composed, but she was far from thrilled that he hadn't told her about the attack when he had called from the hospital; she'd had to learn about it through the media. He was hardly concerned about that. He had expected it from her. That was just who Pepper was.

Rhodey tried his hand at playing therapist for a few days. Tony had managed to lie through his teeth enough to get him off his back. Honestly, he felt fine. He was alive and well, and it was time to get back into the swing of things. It wasn't his style to dwell on the past like that. He was back where he was supposed to be, and whatever happened to JC…well, he would never have to see her again, which meant that she would never get hurt again because of his carelessness. That was how things were supposed to be.

* * *

"_In other news, three months ago a tragic terrorist attack claimed the lives of Japanese industrialist Sato Takeshi, several members of his security staff, and nearly claimed the life of billionaire Tony Stark, if not for the sole, heroic efforts of his personal bodyguard, who will continue to remain unnamed. This individual was rushed to the hospital in critical condition after the incident and was not expect to survive the numerous injuries that were suffered during the course of the attack. This reporter can now proudly say that this brave soul has made a miraculous full recovery. While this valiant individual shall remain anonymous, their noble efforts shall not. Our prayers and thanks go out to this courageous individual and their family as well as the families of the other victims."_

That was what most of the news stations across the nation had been saying about her. JC hardly thought of waking up from a coma a 'miraculous full recovery,' but it was definitely a miracle by any standard. Most other cases she had heard of that were remotely similar usually left people dead or stuck in a coma for years, if not the rest of their lives. Her other injuries had been healing very well. Her leg still had some progress to go at that point, but she was able to walk with the help of a cane.

After spending nearly two weeks in Japan the doctors finally gave permission to have her comatose body sent back to California, which her mother had been grateful for. She said that she and Darren had been in to see her everyday talking to her, reading to her, or just sitting with her in hopes that she would wake up. She had always heard the story that if you talked to someone while they were in a coma it would help them find their way back. She couldn't remember hearing their voices.

For the most part there had just been a void with no sense of whether she was alive or dead, no sense of time or space. But there was a time when that void started to disappear, and then there was a long period of what could only be described as Hell. She had dreamed of the attack, the pain, of Tony and the things he had done, of the ambush that had taken the life of her husband…of _him. _It had all been amplified to an excruciating extent that when she finally came back to the world it was not one of those peaceful scenes from a movie where the person wakes up as if they had only been sleeping. She had bolted out of bed screaming and flailing her body so much that she had managed to rip out her IV and pulled off most of the other wires that connected to monitors. When the nurses and doctors finally got to her they had to sedate her before she caused anymore harm to herself. The next time she awoke was much better, more calm, and her mother and son had been there. That was how the first time should have been. She was just thankful they hadn't been there for the first time.

She spent a few more days in the hospital for observation but was finally allowed to return home. As far as the doctors could tell, most of her memory was intact. The majority of the details of what happened after her fall down the stairs were pretty fuzzy, but she figured they weren't really that important. Based on all the news reports she had taken down the bad guys and saved the day. She didn't need to know much more than that. The only clear detail that she truly recalled was threatening Stark's life in the elevator on their way back to the lobby. She could almost remember the look in his eye that told her he knew she was serious, and that was all that was important to her.

Her mother had said that while she was in the hospital a man had come to see her and stayed with her for the first day or two until she was able to get to Japan. Her mother never said who the man was, just some stranger who had some sympathy for her. JC hadn't been too pleased that the hospital staff had just let anybody stay in her room with her. For all they knew it could have been another one of those terrorists who decided to get some revenge for his fallen comrades. Her mother assured her that the stranger had been no threat to her. He just kept her company so she wouldn't be alone. Her mother always got this odd smile whenever she mentioned that stranger, like she knew more than she was telling. JC knew the smile well since not only had she seen it on her mother's face plenty of times, but she used that same smile on her son on more than one occasion. It was just one of those mother things. Whoever the stranger was, he'd had some strange effect on her mother.

The strangest thing about the whole situation was that she learned Stark Industries had picked up the tab for all of her medical bills, transportation of her mother to Japan, getting her back to California, everything. She sneered when she heard the news. The last thing she wanted was to accept any money that was directly related to Tony Stark. If that was supposed to be some form of apology, it was a pretty pathetic one. She knew the smell of false sincerity when she saw it. It was publicity and nothing more. Sure, no one knew that it was her, and there was no mention in the Media that Stark was providing any aid to her or her family, but that was beside the point. She was grateful, however, that they had kept her identity anonymous. The last thing she wanted was for her mother and Darren to get tangled up in the nightmare that was the Media.

It was eleven months after the attack now, and life for JC was still crawling forward. Physical therapy had been a pain, and she was still trying to keep at it with what they called 'therapeutic' yoga. Yeah, right. She thought she had been aware of every muscle in her body before, but somehow yoga had a way of finding the ones you didn't know you had which felt more like torture than therapy. She was grateful for the toning and rebuilding of some of the muscle she had lost, but she still thought yogis were crazy for doing this insanity every day. But it wasn't just the physical aspect that she leaned on now.

Six weeks earlier her mother finally passed away. It had been expected, but it still felt so sudden. Her mother had been diagnosed with leukemia several years earlier. It had been in remission, but not long after JC had woken up from her coma, the leukemia kicked up with a vengeance and finally took her. JC was still going through her grieving process, but the yoga had helped more than she thought. Her instructor had babbled on about the energies of the body and poses that were supposed to help fight depression and anger. She'd never put much stock in the whole balance-your-chi type babble that she always heard, but even she had to admit that the yoga had made her feel emotionally better. It had definitely played a huge part in recovering from her grief.

As she lay out on her lawn behind the house in her resting pose after finishing her sequences for the day, she said her little chant that her instructor said she should do, especially after she had been exceptionally cruel to her body like today. Most of the time she just felt silly saying it out loud, but as long as there was no one to watch her, she didn't care quite so much.

"I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. Thank you. I love you."

"Apology accepted. You are forgiven. You're welcome for being an amazing friend. Well, I'd say I love you, but that would just make things weird," a familiar voice said.

She bolted up startled by the new presence in her backyard before finally relaxing when she saw who it was: a man she thought had died eleven months ago.

"Oh, my God. Carl? Is that you?"

"The one and only. Glad to see you missed me, Caiden," he said with a wide grin. Carl was the only one who ever referred to her by her middle name. She had refused to give him her first name, but he hated calling her by her initials. It was just some peeve of his that he couldn't get over. The only time he ever agreed to call her by her initials was if they were on a job, mostly because that's how everyone else knew her, and he didn't want to cause any confusion.

He gave her a hand up and hugged her tightly, lifting her up in the air and spun her around.

"I can just hear your mother now," he said when he finally put her down. "My daughter has a perfectly good first name. I don't know why she goes by those damned initials, but you will call her by that or her real name," he said in a near perfect impersonation of her mother, evil glare, wagging finger and all.

"Yeah, you always did piss her off when you did that," she laughed. "I'm gonna miss her doing that," she said reflectively.

"I only found out about it last week. I'm sorry, Caiden. Your mom was a good woman," Carl said sympathetically.

"Yeah, she was. You know, she always thought it was weird that you and I never became a couple after Brenan. She said you might as well be my husband the way you were always hanging around. You were good with Darren, too."

"Caiden, you know you're more like a sister to me. You and me together like that…it would just be weird," he said with a bit of a grimace.

"Oh, I know that. Jeez, you thought I was actually suggesting it? If we did that, I might start to feel bad about beating you up when we start sparring again," she teased. "That is, if we do. Where the hell have you been? It's been almost a year, and I don't get so much as a freaking postcard to let me know you're still alive. I know I was out of commission for a while, but you never even bothered to come see me. I know, because Mom would have told me, if you had."

He looked down at his feet guiltily for a moment. "I know. I was a jerk, and I'm sorry. Can you just trust that I had a good reason for keeping my distance?"

"We've been friends too long for you to use that. You owe me an answer. So, are you going to tell me the truth, or do I have to beat it out of you?"

"If you did that, then I wouldn't be able to tell you the big news," he offered with a placating smirk.

She eyed him warily. "What kind of news?"

"I got you a big job offer. I'll tell you all about it, if we forgo the Spanish Inquisition. Deal?"

"I've got a better deal. You tell me the job offer, and we will revisit you telling me the truth at some later date in time," she countered.

"How much later in time are we talking?"

"It's up to you. However, it has to be within one year from the end of this job. Deal?" she said and offered her hand. He contemplated her words for a moment before conceding and shook her hand. She knew he would keep his word. Whether what he would tell her was true or not was another story. "You've gotta give me a name though, just to ease some of this burning curiosity."

"A name?" he asked confused.

"The person, place, or thing that made you disappear. I don't need specifics yet. Just give me a little hint."

"That wasn't part of the deal," he reminded her.

"You owe me something. Just give me a name, and I'll leave you alone. C'mon, Carl. Just one name," she pleaded with the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster.

He shook his head and sighed in defeat at her. "Okay, I'll give you his name. But that's it. You should remember him: Phil Coulson," he said.

"Coulson? That little pansy from that government group whose name is way too long?" she asked a bit astonished. She remembered him. He had asked for some help on an assignment several years before for some agency that she had never even heard of. She had been dumb enough to agree at the time, but she knew now that any job that Coulson was involved with couldn't be good. If it was anything like the job she had been on, it was dangerous and most likely life-threatening.

"He is not a pansy. He does happen to have some impressive skills," Carl defended.

"Oh, I know he does. But when he's not showing them off, which is pretty rare from what I remember, he's like a little girl. He's whiny, pushy, and don't get him started on his Captain America trading cards. If he ever had the chance, he'd probably kiss the ground the captain walked on."

"So he's a little passionate about his collection. And did you ever consider it's all just a façade? He's lulling you into a false sense of security before he jumps up and kicks your ass," he pointed out.

"I don't know if you ever heard how bad my condition was in Japan, but I still could have taken Coulson out like that, gunshot wounds and all," she boasted. "Okay, enough about wimpy Coulson. What's the job? And if you say it's for him, I will possibly be forced to beat you senseless."

"Relax, Caiden, it's not for Coulson. This one's a military job," he said.

"Military? They haven't called me in for, like, five years. Don't they have about a dozen other real soldiers they could call? What do they need with a washed out lieutenant like me?"

"First off, you're not washed out. You're discharged. Secondly, you've got experience handling personal security. That's what they need. There's a weapons developer doing a demonstration in Afghanistan next week, and the guys in charge want a little extra security. Only one missile is being brought for testing. The biggest concern is if the insurgents try to take the developer. He's the only one who'd be capable of recreating the missile for them. In the event that total catastrophe strikes, they need someone who can get him out. You've been in the sandbox before, so you know what conditions to expect and how to survive if you have to take him and run. What do you say?"

"I say there's several dozen other soldiers with desert training that could run with the guy, if they had to, and they're all up to date on survival techniques. Why me? What aren't you telling me?" she asked skeptically. She knew a rat when she smelled one. Something definitely wasn't right.

"Several people were considered for this job. Your name was among them, and you got picked. It's an easy in-and-out job, Caiden. They're paying you a pretty penny for what will probably be only about six hours of real work. I don't know what you're so jumpy about."

"We were in the military for how many years, Carl? When were the missions that were labeled 'easy in-and-out' ever that easy? You're not telling me something, and I want to know what it is," she demanded.

"I'm telling you everything. You fly in the day before, check out the site, watch the demonstration, get the guy back on a plane, and then you get to come home within the hour of his departure. Easy milk run," he tried to assure her. But she knew better. Whenever Carl tried to lie to her, his nose would always twitch. His nose had been twitching since he started talking about the job.

"Fine. Who's the target?"

"What?" he asked dumbly.

"This guy I'm supposed to protect, who is he?" she clarified.

"Just one of those industrialist types, you know?" he said nervously. There was the twitch again.

"Okay, Carl, listen to me. Your nose has been twitching like a friggin' rabbit for the past five minutes. You're either lying, or you're trying to hide something, both of which are not convincing me to take the job. You can either be straight with me, or you can get off my property." She preferred the first option mostly because she didn't want to see him go yet. He was still one of her best friends, which was something she didn't have in great supply. But if he was lying to her or hiding something because it was some sort of secret government job, which she was beginning to fear was the case, if he was dealing Phil Coulson, she didn't want to have any part of it.

He let out a frustrated growl and raked his fingers through his hair. "Damn it, you are a real pain, you know that?"

"Well, you're being a jerk. I'm entitled to be a pain," she justified, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine," he sighed. "It's the same guy as last time."

"Last time? What do you mean? The last job I had was…" She trailed off when she realized what he meant. "Oh, no. No, not me. I refuse. Find someone else," she said and started toward the house. Tony Stark was the last person she ever wanted to see, let alone work for.

"Look, I know you two had your differences, and I knew you'd still be mad about him running off like that. That was the only reason I didn't tell you the whole story. But, Caiden, be reasonable. I know he was ass for running off like he did, but you did try to strangle him. There are plenty of people I can think of that would have done the same thing," Carl said as he trailed behind.

"This has nothing to do with that. That little fubar is miniscule in comparison," she snapped over her shoulder.

"Come on, Caidan. What could he have possibly done?"

She turned on her heel to face him. Part of her wanted to blurt the truth to him, tell him everything that had happened. A year ago she probably would have. Not now. He was hiding things from her, which was close enough to lying in her book.

"That bastard got me shot, Carl. I took two rounds that I shouldn't have had to, because he couldn't follow simple instructions to stay where he was. That whole incident just caused the wonderful little spiral that put me in that coma. You have no idea what kind of hell that was! I will not put myself in a situation like that again with him. If we get attacked out there and I have to run across some desert with him, he will likely get one or both us killed. I won't do it, Carl. I can't do that to my son again."

She stood there fuming at him. Oddly enough, he didn't look as perturbed at her admission as she thought he might. In fact, he didn't look disturbed at all.

"Caiden, I read the report from that day. Fine, maybe he was an idiot, and got you shot. How many times have you gotten shot protecting other people?" he asked rhetorically. "You can't blame him for everything that happened that day. Your coma was a result of swelling in your head caused by a psychopath throwing you down a flight of stairs. Tony Stark didn't do that to you. He isn't responsible for what happened."

"Are you kidding me? If he hadn't been there–"

"If it wasn't him, it would have been someone else. Takeshi was trying to sell the company to someone who could possibly protect his little secrets. No matter who decided to try next, Takeshi would have called you. Everything still would have gone to hell, because Brax still would have betrayed us. This wasn't Stark's fault."

She wanted to argue further, but there wasn't much use in it. She knew he had a valid point. She never completely blamed Stark for what had happened during the attack. She did blame him for getting her shot, but she couldn't blame him for her coma. Sure, the blood loss had only made her condition worse, but everything else that happened probably would have happened anyways, thanks to Brax. There was still plenty more that she blamed Stark for, none of which she could use to help her now, unless she wanted to tell Carl everything.

"Caiden, you need this job. You and I both know it. These pathetic little surveillance jobs you've had the past few months are a waste of your skills."

"You've been keeping tabs on me?" she demanded.

"I couldn't get in touch with you, but I wanted to make sure you were okay, all right?" he defended. "I'm sorry about what happened in Japan, okay? We both went through hell, and nothing is ever going to change that. But you are the best there is, and you know how Stark works, which will be an asset. I need you on this," he pleaded.

He was right about one thing. She hadn't had a real job since the incident in Japan. At first it was because she couldn't handle the situation if anything serious did happen. Now that her injuries were no longer an issue, she hadn't been able to get a really good job. Most people just wanted her in an advisory capacity. That wasn't where her real skill was. She was a fighter. She wasn't made to sit on the sidelines and feed information to the people doing the real job like Carl had always done for her.

"Stark doesn't actually work. That would imply he used his brain on occasion. I'm pretty sure his brain is broken. Isn't that how all geniuses are supposed to be?" she joked.

He laughed and replied, "I wouldn't say it's broken. It just operates on a different frequency than the rest of the world."

"To the rest of us normal people, that means broken."

"So does this mean you'll take the job?"

She stood there thinking it over. She really didn't want to see that man again. Even if she didn't talk to him, his very presence annoyed her. But she couldn't deny that she needed a good job again, something that didn't keep her in a surveillance room. Besides, it might even give her the opportunity to torture the little bastard.

"Yes, I'll do it," she finally conceded. "But I doubt he's gonna be that happy to see me again."

"Why would you say that? I mean, I know there was the whole strangling incident, but I'm sure he's gotten over that by now," Carl reasoned.

"I kind of threatened him with a knife in an elevator, promised to kill him, if I ever saw him again. You know, that sort of thing."

Carl's face went dead-panned. "I did not need to hear that. I really didn't need to hear that. Do you realize how uncomforting it is to hear that?"

"In my defense I was suffering from a head injury, wasn't in my right mind. You think anyone'll believe it?"

"You've got the same chance as a snowball in Hell. Just try not to mention that to anyone. But, hey, before I go, I had a question for you." She motioned for him to ask. "Why did you finally drop Brenan's name?"

He was referring to her change from being a Wilcox to being an Alwin, her maiden name. She looked at her feet nervously for a moment before answering. "It was time. I've been carrying him around for about nine years now. I needed to move on, and I know he'd want me to go forward with my life. I kept it for so long to try to give Darren some hope that he wasn't dead, but I think he's realized his dad's not coming back for a long time now."

"What happened out there wasn't your fault, Caiden. He had a moment of stupidity, and he paid the price for it. You may have dropped his name, but you're still carrying him around. You have to let it go, if you ever really want to move on," he said gently.

She had heard the same story for years from him, her mother, and several shrinks. None of them could ever understand. They weren't there when it happened. They weren't the ones in charge of keeping him safe. She was, and she had failed. Nothing was ever going to change that fact.

"I know, Carl. I'm trying," she lied. She didn't want to let it go. She couldn't let it go. Brenan's blood was on her hands. You don't just let something like that go.

"Okay then, now that we've had that little chat, back to business. A car will come pick you up on Thursday. You should be home by Sunday at some ungodly hour in the morning, but when do we ever get to come home at reasonable hours, right?"

She chuckled, "Right."

"You're the best, Caiden. You won't regret this," Carl said and headed back to his car.

"I already am, Carl," she called after him.

_I already am._

* * *

**AN: Only one more chapter for this one and then it's finished. Hope everyone's enjoyed it! I should start posting my Avengers fic within a few weeks of finishing this one. Hopefully. Anyways, let me know what you think, leave me a review. They always make me smile :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

One week later JC found herself at Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan. She had arrived nearly twelve hours earlier and had already done a preliminary look over of the testing site. It was pretty far out in the middle of nowhere, the safest place to test a missile with the supposed destructive force the Jericho had. However, it went through a lot of area that would be perfect for an ambush, if insurgents really wanted to attack.

If she'd had it her way, she'd have Stark transported in a helicopter. While she didn't really like flying in general, it would be safer than being on the ground. The only way to bring them down would be to shoot them down, and if they wanted Stark alive, they wouldn't risk him dying in a crash landing. It was too easy to stop a caravan like the generals had planned out. But it wasn't her call. Her only job was to ride along with Stark and make sure he was safe.

Stark's plane was scheduled to arrive by noon. At 12:45 they got word that his plane was going to be delayed. By at least three hours.

"You've got to be kidding me? Three hours? Why the hell is he going to be that late, Carl?" she fumed when he told her the news.

"They said the plane wasn't able to take off on time," he explained.

"It's a private jet. You honestly think that they were delayed for technical difficulties? Or they couldn't find someone to fly the plane? I'll tell you what happened. That little bastard deliberately delayed the flight. What his reason was, I don't have a clue. Maybe he decided he needed to have a few drinks before boarding. Wouldn't surprise me," she snapped. She didn't know why she expected him to actually show up even remotely on time. She had foolishly assumed that since this was a work related trip that he might actually take it seriously. Big mistake that was.

"Caiden, let's not assume anything. And try not to say things like that so loud. The generals aren't gonna want to hear you talking bad about him or threatening his life," he warned.

"I'm smarter than that. I won't make any verbal threats, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna find a subtle way to make his life a living hell while he's here. That's the least he deserves."

"Ah, there's the Caiden we all know and love. Just try not to scare him off until after the presentation. All these top ranking guys still want to see stuff get blown up."

"Yes, you little boys always need your entertainment. The wonderful little virtual presentation is never good enough, right?"

"Well, there's always the chance of false advertising. They want to make sure it does what it's supposed to before spending a couple million on new weapons."

"You sure about that? I'm pretty sure you guys just want to watch something blow up. That's always a great fascination for boys, big and small," she teased.

"This coming from the woman who deliberately mixed the wrong chemicals in her high school chemistry class just to see if it could make a different color flame," he countered.

"I didn't _deliberately_ mix the wrong chemicals. It was an accident. And the teacher did say that when certain chemicals were exposed to flame it would create colored fire. I just picked the wrong stuff and put too much of it over the fire. All the chemicals looked exactly the same," she defended.

"Whatever you say, Caiden," Carl said disbelievingly.

"Alwin, Masters," a voice called from across the tarmac. They both turned to see a sergeant approaching them. "It looks like a storm might be heading toward the testing sight. General Gabriel wants you two to go determine if it will impede the demonstration and find a suitable replacement sight from one of these coordinates, if it does," the man reported handing over the list of locations to Carl.

"Yes, sir," Carl said and saluted the man. "Let's go, Caiden. Suit up," he said and tossed her flight suit at her.

"Do I have to wear the monkey suit? You know how much I hate this thing," she whined.

"Yes, you have to wear the monkey suit. Quit your whining and just put it on while I get the chopper ready."

As Carl went about checking over the helicopter JC pulled off her poncho and tossed it in the co-pilot seat before pulling the suit on.

"You brought your knives with you? Don't you think they're a little impractical? Most of the enemies are probably going to be well out of your range. Your throw is impressive, but you're no Superman," he teased when he saw her vest.

"You never know what's gonna happen out there. If they start closing in, I want to be able to save my ammo. Besides, a knife is a handy tool, if you have to go trekking through the desert," she said as she zipped up her suit.

"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that. Hop in and let's get through the pre-flight list."

After going through the routine checklist Carl started up the engine and took off. The test site was at least a forty five minute trip by helicopter which meant it would take a minimum of an hour by humvee caravan. That was one drive she wasn't particularly looking forward to. She remembered that Tony never could stay silent for more than five minutes at a time, if even that. Whether it was because he hated awkward silences or just liked hearing the sound of his own voice, she wasn't sure, but she was betting on the latter.

"So do you think this storm is going to be as big of a problem as they think?" Carl asked about half way through the flight.

"There's about three possibilities. First, the storm has completely passed already and we have nothing to worry about. Second, it's almost there but will blow over by the time we get back to base and head back out here for the presentation. Or third, it's already at the site and we're going to fly right into it."

"What makes you so sure of any one of those?"

"It's the desert, Carl. Storms like this come and go in the blink of an eye. For all we know, this one will blow right over, and then another one will come up right as the presentation starts. This is going to turn out to be a waste of time," she huffed.

"Try looking on the bright side. At least this gives you something to do besides stand around waiting for Stark," he tried to console.

"It'd be even better if I didn't have to see that little prick at all. I can't believe I actually let you talk me into doing this," she groaned.

"Stop your moaning. I can think of quite a few other jobs that have been a lot worse than this one, not including Japan. I wouldn't mind sitting in a car for a little while, watch things blow up, then have another nice little ride back."

"Then why don't you take the job, since you seem so interested in it," she offered dryly.

"Somebody's gotta fly the planes and helicopters around. I am one of the best pilots around here, ya know."

That, she had to admit, was very true. If it flew in the air, chances were Carl could fly it. And he didn't just make his birds fly. He could practically make them dance. That was what also terrified her. Even though she knew he was always in control, that didn't mean he didn't scare the hell out of her when he decided to pull some little stunt that he thought was just so cool.

"Hey, Mr. Best Pilot, set her down over there. I want to get a good survey of the area without your blades kicking sand up in my face," she said as she pointed to the landing spot.

"You got it, Lieutenant Cranky."

"And if you call me anymore names, my boot is going to find its way up to where the sun don't shine. Got it?"

"Geez, Caiden, you need to get a sense of humor," he said with a small laugh.

"I thought that's what I had you for," she said with a smirk.

Once Carl had set down JC disembarked the helicopter and grabbed a pair of binoculars before moving a good twenty or thirty yards away. In the distance she could see the makings of a small wind storm kicking up the sand. Removing her helmet she looked through the binoculars to get a better look. The so called storm would do little more than cause some irritation, nothing a face covering and a pair of goggles couldn't fix. As far as she could determine, the storm was moving away from them.

_Exactly as I thought._

She scanned the horizon all around her to see if there were any other indications of bad weather on the move. Thus far, there were none. Putting her helmet back on she went back to the chopper and got back in.

"What's the verdict?" Carl asked when she had reconnected her radio.

"Clear skies ahead. Storm's moving away from the site. Barring great natural disaster, the presentation will be just fine here. Take a spin around the area, make sure we don't have any unwanted guests looking to make trouble."

"You think they're here already?" he questioned.

"You can never be too careful. Be sure to make a good sweep on the way back. They may have been expecting him sooner and have already set up on the road."

"And if they decide to set up after we've gone?"

"That's where me and a caravan of soldiers do their jobs. Keep your eyes open, Carl," she said and turned her attention to the ground.

She hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary on their trip out to the sight, but that didn't always mean anything. There was every chance enemies had set up behind them. She doubted it, but she wasn't going to rule it out.

"Seen anything yet?" she asked when they were about ten minutes out from base.

"A rock hasn't so much as given me a sideways glance, Caiden. If they were expecting Stark, they would have already been set up by now. Looks like this is gonna be easier than we thought."

"Don't get your hopes up. Terrorists have ways of getting information. They could have found out about Stark's delayed arrival and just be waiting for another opportunity. This is exactly why I wanted him flown out, not driven," she sighed in frustration.

"Yeah, because then when they try to shoot us down, we can all get ourselves killed. Great plan," he said sarcastically.

"They want him alive, idiot. They wouldn't risk killing him in a crash. Besides, you'd be good enough to avoid any real trouble."

He mumbled something under his breath that she couldn't understand, but she was pretty sure it was a curse of some sort. She just smirked at him.

"Hey, look there. His plane's landed," Carl reported pointing to the tarmac in the distance.

"About time, I guess. Let's just get this over with already."

"Come on, sour puss, don't sound so excited about it."

"Don't call me sour puss," she said giving him a light punch to the shoulder.

"You really shouldn't hit a pilot when he's trying to fly. It could cause him to veer off course," he said right before jerking the stick.

JC grabbed on to anything she could find and let out a scream as the helicopter started spinning. This was the main reason she hated flying with Carl; he always enjoyed pulling some stupid prank like this. She yelled several curses at him, begging him to stop.

"And then I have to correct course suddenly like this," he tormented as he jerked the stick in the opposite direction.

"Oh my god, Carl, stop it!" she cried as she shut her eyes to the world spinning below her.

"Oh, hey, there's Stark. What do you say we zoom in for a closer look, say hello?" he offered with an impish smirk.

"No, Carl! We should not zoom in to say hello!"

"What was that? You think we should? I couldn't agree more."

She screamed another curse at him as he sped down toward the tarmac. Before she knew it they were flying right over Stark along with the general and several peace keepers and pulled in sharply for a landing. When Carl finally killed the engine she stared up at him with a wide eyed glare.

"I hate you so much right now," she huffed as she undid her harness and opened the door.

"Love ya, too. Knock him dead," he said with a smile. "Just not literally, ya know," he amended.

She groaned as she pulled herself out of the helicopter to greet General Gabriel.

"Lieutenant Alwin," he greeted with a salute.

"General Gabriel," she replied with a salute as well. "The storm passed over. We're ready whenever Mr. Stark is."

"Excellent. Come with me, and I'll introduce you."

She nodded and removed her helmet, leaving it behind in the helicopter, and followed the general to where Stark and Colonel Rhodes, the liaison, were standing. She couldn't help but notice that he had gone a shade paler and his body had gone visibly tense. She resisted the urge to start smirking at him. He had remembered her threat and had taken it to heart. Whatever ideas she had about him being the one behind her being chosen had all but vanished. If he was this scared of her, there was a very small chance he had recommended her. But he didn't need to know that she knew that. She saw potential in using it against him. He turned to Rhodes and was saying something to him, but she couldn't make it out. Now was her chance to start the torture.

"Are you ready, Mr. Stark?" she asked in the sweetest tone she possibly could and gave him her most innocent look. He turned to look at her, the look on his face just short of agony, though he hid it very well.

"Mr. Stark, may I introduce–"

"That's not necessary, sir. We've met before. I was his guard in Japan last year," she said.

She watched him squirm at the very mention of Japan, and she grinned at him. This was going to be fun.

"Lieutenant Alwin? You never mentioned the military, and last year you were Wilcox," he said with some strain.

"It wasn't exactly necessary information that ever came up in conversation, and I am allowed to change my name. If you are ready to go, Mr. Stark, we should get under way. General," she said saluting her superior.

General Gabriel dismissed them and she led them to the convoy before stopping back at Carl's chopper to replace her flight suit.

"Hey, Caiden, do me a favor, would you?" Carl said as she was about to head back to the convoy.

"What, Carl?" she asked dryly as plans of revenge were beginning to form in her mind. He might have known haw to scare her senseless, but she knew a thing or two that could do the exact same to him. And she planned to implement them as soon as she got back. Although she did occasionally find some of his pranks to be somewhat exhilarating–that is, after her heart stopped racing like a jack rabbit–this kind was not the type she enjoyed. Not one little bit.

"Be careful out there. I don't want to see a repeat of the last time you were out there," he said solemnly.

"I'll be fine, Carl. Don't worry about it," she said easily. "It's a piece of cake, remember? What's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

After being in captivity for three months Tony and JC had finally managed to escape the Ten Rings's grasp. When they had been rescued from their desert escapade, JC had been so seriously dehydrated the doctor couldn't find a good vein to give her an IV. They had eventually found one around her temple; though that was probably the last place they had wanted, it was the only one they could get for now. That had been just over an hour ago. During that time Tony had all but recovered. He hadn't wanted the IV, but the doctor had insisted, so Tony did as he was told. JC was still unconscious, but she was making a good recovery. At least, that's what her doctor had said. He was on his way back from eating his first real meal when he saw a man already sitting by JC's bedside. The man looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place him.

"I never should have pushed you to take this job. It's my fault that this happened to you. I'm so sorry," he heard the man say.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," Tony said.

The man jumped to his feet, obviously startled by his presence. "It is," he said after a moment to collect himself. "She didn't want this job from the beginning, but I persuaded her to do it. If it weren't for me, she would never have come and never gotten hurt."

"Wait a sec. I recognize you. Weren't you the pilot that flew us back?" he asked when he realized the resemblance. He remembered that the pilot of the helicopter had taken a serious interest in whether or not she was all right. Sure, Rhodey had asked if she was all right when he had found them, but his was more of an objective, assessing question. When the pilot had asked, it was full of concern and genuine worry for her. He had thought it odd at the time, but now it made sense. He was a friend that had gone looking for her just as Rhodey had done for him.

"Yeah, I was. Carl Masters," he said, offering his hand. "I finally get to meet the infamous Tony Stark."

"Carl?" he mused, a thought popping into his mind. "This might sound a bit odd, but were you in Japan last year?" he asked thinking back to the attack. JC had been talking to someone over a radio, and he remembered that she had called him Carl.

He scoffed. "Yeah, I was. A lot of good I did. Some bastard got the drop on me and nearly killed me. She was flying in there blind all because I couldn't pay attention to my surroundings. It's one of the first things we learn, and I failed," he said morosely.

"You're not responsible for there being a traitor. You had no way of knowing that would happen."

"I suppose so," he conceded. "I guess we'll never really know."

"I guess so," he agreed. He had an idea of what the man felt. Tony had seen his weapons in the hands of terrorists. While it was plausible they might have found a way to steal the weapons, the possibility of someone on the inside selling the weapons was more likely. If that was so, shouldn't there have been some sort of sign? Wasn't there supposed to be some sort of warning how ever miniscule it may be? For Carl, there probably had been a sign that the man would have betrayed them, but he had probably chosen to ignore it. Friendships had a way of making you blind to certain things.

"I do have one question, since you brought it up. If she was so against taking the job, why did you work so hard to convince her to take it?" Tony couldn't fathom why she would take a job that she obviously hated from the beginning. There was the opportunity to possibly torture him, which wouldn't have surprised him, but she had made it very clear that she had never wanted to see him again, no matter what.

"You mean you hadn't heard?" Carl questioned with a rather surprised look.

"I didn't exactly keep tabs on her after Japan. She made it pretty clear she wanted nothing to do with me, so I didn't feel it was really necessary for me to look in on her," he replied. It had been a partial lie. He had kept tabs on her during the time she had been in her coma, but once he heard that she was awake and expected to make a full recovery, he had stopped. He didn't feel he had much right to watch her like that or had any need. She was alive and well and with her family. That was all he needed to know. Or so he thought.

"She's a fighter, Mr. Stark, always has been. After Japan, she'd only been getting jobs fit for mall cops. Sure, she'd been injured for awhile, but…" He trailed off for a moment as if searching for the right words. "The fact of the matter is, a lot of people lost faith in her. There haven't been many incidents that got as ugly as what happened with you. If bad guys attack and things go a bit to hell, it's expected. All of her clients had realistic expectations that if someone attacked, she would probably get hurt, maybe even shot or worse, but they would make it out alive. The fact that one of her own people was a turncoat, it puts everything she's ever done into question. If she can't even get men that she can trust, how is she supposed to be able to protect the client?"

Tony knew he had a point. Things like that were how he judged if a person was a capable or not in their job. A few years ago, he might have thought that same way. But he had seen how capable she was in spite of a traitor. Surely her record before that was more than enough to prove her credibility.

"I knew she wouldn't last long like that," he continued. "It would kill her, if she didn't get back to real action. So, I used every card I had to get her out here. I thought that this would be the best way to get her noticed again. I told her it would be so simple, but she was right. The simple ones are never simple," he admitted glumly.

Tony contemplated the man's words for a moment. He was right. JC was a fighter. He knew that firsthand. He also knew that she hated doing nothing or just doing what was easy. She had made that abundantly clear during their time in the cave.

"I would have thought after handling the situation as well as she did, more people would want her. She saved my life that day almost at the cost of her own. What kind of idiot ignores that?"

"Her name wasn't kept solely out of the news. We made sure no one would know about her involvement," he said.

"Why would you do that? And who is 'we'? And if you made sure no one knew, why was her job at risk?" Tony asked with a suspicious look. That day had been a nightmare, but it could have been a hundred times worse without her there. He could understand wanting to keep her name out of the media, but not letting anyone know about her involvement seemed ridiculous.

"Takeshi was killed in that attack. She may have been assigned primarily to you, but she was put in charge as head of security. If word got out that Takeshi, the man who hired her, was killed on her watch, she would be dead in the water. She needed a job to get her really back in the game, and this happened. There are people who dug a little too deep and found out before we could get it all under wraps. They say something to to their employers who then tells a friend, they tell their friends; it's a nasty downward spiral. And now with this, everyone knows she was here with you. It was all over the news. There's no way to clean all this up. This will potentially kill her career now," he explained.

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"Just you wait, Stark. Just like any other business, this isn't a kind business. Injuries and things going to hell are an expectation, but keeping everyone safe every time is an even higher expectation. So far her track record with you hasn't been so good. You ran away from her, and actually got away with it, were nearly taken by Japanese extremists, and were kidnapped and nearly killed by terrorists. Regardless of the fact that you both made it out in relatively one piece in both situations, it still reflects badly on her, makes it look like she doesn't know how to prepare for these kinds of situations. If it was anyone else involved, it might be possible to sweep some of this under the rug. But you're not just anyone, Mr. Stark."

They stood there in silence staring each other down. His words were accusatory, but the look in his eyes was not. There was guilt and remorse in those eyes. Tony had no doubt that this man blamed him for the events in Japan, but for what had happened here, Carl blamed himself.

"You still never said who 'we' is," Tony reminded.

"I can't really go into that. Let's just say it's a big favor that I owe. I have to go now, but before I do, I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?" he asked confused at the man.

"You may be the reason that she got hurt out there, but you're also the reason that she's still alive. If I know her at all, she would have wanted you to leave her behind out there, but you didn't. Not to mention that thing in her back. You did a lot for her despite the fact that she threatened to kill you. There's no way I can thank you enough," he said and offered his hand.

Tony looked at him warily for a moment before accepting his hand and shook it.

"Mild curiosity: how did you know she threatened to kill me?" he asked as the man began to walk past him.

"She told me when I offered her the job," he said with a grin.

"Most people would have recommended someone else in light of that little fact. Why would you still make sure she came?" he questioned.

"Honestly? You might have been a pain in the ass for her, but I think she secretly liked it."

Tony couldn't help but laugh at the man. It was absolutely ridiculous. And what were the odds that this was the second person to say that to him. "You're kidding right?"

"No, I'm not," he said with a smile. "I don't know how well you know her now, but she has her ways of dealing with different people. To gain control of her clients, let them know that she was the boss, she used fear and intimidation mostly. Out of the several dozen men she's protected over the years, you're one of only two men she used seduction on. It was working rather well until that kiss on the dance floor. I honestly thought she might kiss you back. That is, after she inflicted some sort of physical harm first," he amended with a shrewd smirk.

"You were watching the entire time?"

"Of course I was. That was my job," he admitted unabashed.

"So who was this other man then?" Tony asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Her husband," he replied.

Tony felt his stomach churn. She was married? He realized he should have expected that. She did have a son, after all. Why shouldn't she be married? Then he remembered her change of name. Perhaps her marriage was recent. He just couldn't fathom how he had managed to miss the fact that she'd had a boyfriend or fiancé when he had checked up on her during those few months of her coma.

"She's married?" he asked dumbly. Why wouldn't she have mentioned it back in the cave? Yinsen had asked about her family. Granted, Tony hadn't really given her the opportunity to answer the question, but she had never said anything about it after that. Shouldn't it have been natural for her to mention her husband at least once? She had mentioned her son on more than one occasion, mostly when Yinsen spoke about his own family, but never anything about a spouse.

"No. Not anymore," Carl answered. There was an expression on his face that Tony couldn't completely comprehend. Was it grief? There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but there was something else, something that almost resembled relief. What did that mean? Perhaps it had been a bad marriage that she had just gotten out of. That would explain why she'd never mentioned a husband and her change of name. He just didn't know for sure, and he doubted he would ever get much out of JC when she woke up.

"Look, I really have to get going," Carl said when Tony was silent for a moment too long. "Do me a favor though?" Tony gave him a look for him to continue. "Keep her safe. She's gonna need a good friend after this, and I won't be able to do that for her. I know you two haven't had the best of times together, but I know some part of her trusts you. If she didn't, she'd never have let you carry her out. Can you do this for me?"

Tony mulled over his words. He was right: they hadn't had the best of times together. He'd done horrible things to her, things that couldn't be forgiven. Even if he wanted to grant this man's request, would she let him? They had already agreed that once they were out of the cave they would go back to the way things were before. She would hate him and not want to see him again unless it was on the TV. Even then, he was sure she'd just switch channels to avoid having to look at him or hear about him.

"I'll do what I can," he placated, not sure that he could truly promise what this man was asking, though he would try. More than anything, he wanted to mend bridges with JC. He didn't expect to really become friends, but at least get to a point where she didn't despise him.

Carl nodded and said his goodbyes before finally leaving. Tony took the seat next to JC's bed and waited. It wouldn't be long before she woke up, and after that…well, it was anyone's guess after that. He settled in for the wait, his eyes growing heavier by the minute. His doctor had said that he should lie down for awhile, get some good rest, but he had refused. He was so sure that he hadn't needed it. He wanted to stay awake for her, be there when she woke up. He hadn't had the chance last time they were in a hospital like this. He wanted this time to be different.

_Everything will be different this time_, he promised himself as his eyes slowly closed.

_Everything will be different._

* * *

**AN: Well, that's the end folks. Hope ya'll enjoyed it as much as I did ^_^ Anyways, the Avengers story should be up sometime before the end of the month for those that are interested. Don't forget to leave me a review! They always brighten my day :)**_  
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